


Falling in the Fallout

by The_Alex_C



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Apocalypse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 117,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Alex_C/pseuds/The_Alex_C
Summary: Grant McKay was broken beyond repair. So was Cait, the loud-mouthed Irish cage fighter whose contract he somehow ended up with. They had lost everything, everyone, and far as they were concerned, their only reason to live was found at the bottom of a glass bottle. Or at least, that's what they thought. As the two journey together, they must learn to overcome the demons of their past, confront the fears that have plagued them their whole lives, and in each other, find a new reason to live.
Relationships: Cait (Fallout)/Original Male Character(s), Cait/Male Sole Survivor, Cait/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 119





	1. Bullshit. A Lot of Bullshit.

He stepped out into the sunlight, right under the wooden COMBAT ZONE sign Tommy hammered up a couple years back. Back when Cait was a freshly acquired cage fighter and Grant was frozen in a cryo cell. 

Back when things were simpler. 

She trailed him reluctantly, watching his every move, her hand resting on the pistol Tommy quickly pressed into her hand right after he gave her contract up.

“You don’t have to stay you know.” He mumbled, struggling to light the cigarette dangling between his lips. “You’re free to go.” 

“What?” 

“You’re free to go.” He repeated. “I’m not really into this whole contract shit. You can come with or we can go our separate ways and pretend this never happened.”

Bullshit. She looked him up and down, trying to figure out what his game was. This had to be a trick. There’s no way this guy was letting her go. The same guy who stormed into the raider infested Combat Zone and painted the walls with their blood was setting her free? Just like that?

“Aw look at you, a proper Commonwealth white knight.” Cait snickered, leaning up against the filthy concrete walls. “Bet you think you’re somethin’ special dontcha? Well newsflash, you ain’t no hero and you sure as hell didn’t save me.” 

He took a long drag from his cigarette, letting out a little euphoric shudder. 

“Kat-“

“It’s Cait, fucker.”

“Cait.” He corrected. “I’m leaving. It’s up to you whether you come with. I’ve survived without you and you’ve survived without me. We don’t need each other.”

Damn right, she thought. She didn’t need anyone. The twenty-six years of being on this pathetic earth had taught her that the hard way. No one else would ever look out for her, no one else would ever protect her. She was all she had and she sure as hell wasn’t looking to change that. 

“So if you’re planning on joining me, let’s go and if not, I’ll give you some caps and you can go wherever your little Irish heart desires.” 

“I don’t need your pity caps.” She spat.

Grant threw his head back, letting out a sickening laugh.

She winced at the very sound of it, his deep chortle sounded just like her father’s, if you could even call him that. Her body instinctively tensed up, waiting for a hard slap across the face or the plunk of a metal baseball bat down on her legs. 

But it never came. 

Grant didn’t do anything close to that but instead chucked his cigarette to the ground, rubbing the flame out into the concrete. 

“You’ve got to be the most ungrateful motherfucker I’ve ever met. I’m giving you free money! Do you know how many people would kill to get a single measly cap?” 

“Yeah well I ain’t fucking stupid, I know how the Commonwealth works. Nothing’s free. You give me a couple caps and then you’ve got me in debt to ya. I ain’t falling for it.”

Grant looked down at the blood-stained concrete beneath him, shaking his head. To be honest, he felt sorry for her. You couldn’t really trust anyone out here but to be so paranoid? Something had to be wrong with her. 

“I’m not some low life raider. I'm not trying to screw you over. But if you don’t want my caps, fine. Just tell me whether you’re coming or not, will you?”

It should have been an easy decision. All Cait had ever wanted was freedom, freedom from her parents, her slavers, the daily beatings in the Combat Zone. 

But where would she go? She had no one, nothing. A couple of Grant’s pity caps wouldn’t last her one night at the bar much less for the rest of her life. Sure she could steal to make ends meet, but that’s not what she really wanted. She didn’t even know what she wanted. 

But even she knew that was a lie.

Deep down Cait knew what she truly craved, what she had been yearning for her whole life. It’s something she had been deprived of from everyone she met. Her search for it was what kept her alive some days, the only thing stopping her from pulling the trigger. 

But as she looked up and down at the man in front of her, she didn’t think for one fraction of a second that Grant would be the one to give that to her. He was too soft to make it far in this wasteland, too hard to be likable and not a single trait about him was desirable to Cait. 

And to be fair, the feeling was mutual. 

Grant didn’t really know what the hell to make of her and boy did he hate that. He had a knack for deciphering people, a “God given gift” as he liked to call it. One look into someone’s eyes and he could tell what kind of person you were, how many times you’ve done it and whether you poured your milk or your Sugar Bombs first.

But with Cait? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had no clue what to make of her. She was a bitch for sure, a loudmouthed asshole with a hell of a right hook but that wasn’t enough. He needed more. 

So that whole “we don’t need each other” thing? Bullshit.

And over the next couple of months, they’d come to discover just how much bullshit it was. 

For both of them. 


	2. Bobrov's Best

“So you plan on telling me where we’re goin’?”

“Diamond City." He said firmly. "I need to go home, stock up on some stuff then check in on Desdemona, Maxson, and Preston, see if they need anything. Piper will probably want another interview.” 

His voice trailed off at the end, a refusal to think about the overwhelming number of people who were relying on him. 

Grant supposed it was better than the alternative of the all-out war the Commonwealth was itching to have right before he came along. He got all the factions to make nice with each other, which he considers one of his top achievements, considering the fact that Elder Maxson had been referring to Desdemona as the “microwave savior” and Desdemona was calling him a “synth hating Santa Claus” when he first met the two. 

He had run around the entire state of Massachusetts for nearly half a year, helping out settlements for the Minutemen, escorting escaped synths for the Railroad, and eliminating ghouls for the Brotherhood. He went into it looking for a purpose, to get some greater meaning out of it. 

He came up empty-handed. 

Truth be told, even being a former soldier, he had no interest in doing it for the “greater good”. He saw that fire other people had, the way Preston talked to him about helping out the little guys, Desdemona about the freeing of synths, Maxson about eliminating Commonwealth threats. They believed in their message and they’d put everything on the line for it. 

Grant? He didn’t have that fire. No matter how many speeches he listened to, no matter how hard he tried, he could never really buy into what they were selling. 

But they believed he did, they believed that he was the man they needed. So they put him in charge. They made him the mouthpiece of the message, which is how he came to be General McKay, Sentinel McKay, and Desdemona’s right-hand man. 

And well, he didn’t have the heart to tell them that he wasn’t really feeling their whole spiel.

So off to Diamond City they went!

“You know, for someone who massacred an entire bar of drunk raiders, you sure are fuckin’ borin’.” Cait moaned, swinging her baseball bat round and round in her hand. 

“Boring? Oh wait, God, I’m so sorry.” He apologized, voice laced with mock guilt. “I forgot that poor Cait can’t live without some danger in her life! Here, I’ll go look for something to kill us.”

He shielded his eyes with his hand and scanned the wasteland in front of them, his head bobbing up and down. Nothing. The city streets were suspiciously empty, no raiders, gunners, or much of anything. If he were alone, he’d have a pistol at the ready, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. But now? He couldn’t resist sticking it to Cait.

“Ah shit, nothing. Well, I guess this’ll have to do.”

Before she could even ask what the hell he was doing, Grant whipped out the pistol he kept holstered to his right thigh and shot the concrete a couple of inches in front of her feet. The bullet ricocheted off the ground, splitting the distance between the two. She jumped back instinctively as the bullet whizzed by her, her sea-green eyes turning red as she shot him a look.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You could have fuckin’ killed me, you moron!”

He shrugged, pressed his lips together, and gave her a goofy smirk.

“Can’t say that was boring though.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t sign up to be your conversation buddy. I thought I’d be taking down some raiders or super mutants or somethin’. If I wanted to be accidentally shot at by a dumbass, I’d have just stayed in the Combat Zone.”

He let out a deep sigh, contemplating how someone he had just met a couple of hours ago could get on his nerves so easily. Maybe he was too sensitive, maybe she was just annoying as all hell. 

Maybe it was both. 

“Look Diamond City is only an hour or two away, just suck it up for a little while longer then tomorrow we’ll have all the near-death experiences you want, alright?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say."

For the rest of the walk, a palpable tension hung in the air, like glass right before it shattered. 

To Cait, Grant was just like everyone else in her life. Cold, arrogant, with a sick joy of toying with her. She had seen it all before. That whole shooting thing? Just a pathetic attempt to scare her, show her that he was the one in charge, that he could hurt her at any time. Her parents had done the same to her. So had her slavers. She wasn’t falling for it. No one would make her feel that helpless ever again. Especially this sad excuse of a man. 

He’d have to agree with her about the sad excuse part.

His eyelids began to droop as the exhaustion kicked in. Every bone in his body ached, his shirt and pants drenched with blood. He’d spent too long on the road, away from the little concrete box he called home. The prospect of an ice-cold beer was really the only thing that kept him going as they trekked down the Diamond City alleyways and up to the entrance. 

“Jesus, they might as well put up a sign sayin’ ‘valuable loot here.’ What the hell are they hiding to need such a fuckin’ big gate?” 

She looked up at the giant piece of rusted sheet metal, held in place by a couple of giant robot doohickeys. She’d never seen anything like it, except for that time Tommy tried to include some scenery into the matches. Sure was fun beating those losers to hell with wooden tree cutouts.

“They’ve got nothing to hide besides a couple of secret reconstructive surgeries and the fact that the mayor is totally boning his secretary.” Grant snorted, furiously banging on the intercom. 

“Danny boy! Open up, my man!” 

“Grant, are you drunk again?” He whined. “You know the mayor gave me strict orders not to let you in wasted.” 

“I’m far too sober to deal with that prick and his shit right now. Just let me in dude.”

“Fine.” Danny sighed, his disappointment audible through the crackling wavelengths. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

The gate pulled open with a whir, and with it opened up the so-called Jewel of the Commonwealth. 

“I’ve heard a lot about this place. Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”

All he could do is smile at that blind optimism, the same stuff he had when Piper first invited him inside. At first it gave him hope. All those people, banding together, building civilization from the ruins? It was a sure step up from the wanton murder, theft, and rape that littered the rest of the cesspool they called the Commonwealth. But like all things, the optimism and the hope eventually peeled off and it left him with the ugly, rotting core underneath. For Diamond City, that was the all-around corruption that plagued every higher up, every person in power. He didn’t see it at first, hoping his last shred of hope wouldn’t be a letdown, just like everything else was. But Piper wouldn’t let up and through many nights shared at the bar, he began to see it. The way the security guards refused to investigate any missing person cases, the shadiness of Mayor McDonough, the ignorance of the residents. And just like that, the last hope went up in flames. So he’d still visit, buy some chems from Solomon, see the Bobrov brothers for some of their signature moonshine, have a chat with Nick and Piper and if needed, spend a couple nights at Home Plate, but it wasn’t home. He didn’t belong, this wasn’t where he was meant to be. After all this time, he was still a wanderer. 

Cait, however, had nothing to go on. Her parents sure as hell never let her outside their trailer park, much less take her to a city. All she knew was the dirty slave camp she was kept in and the puke and piss covered Combat Zone. She’d never seen so many people who weren’t trying to kill you. So many markets in one place. And as she looked up at all the neon signs and shacks, she had only thing to say.

“I’ve always wanted to see the big city. Now I can’t wait to leave.”

“What?” Grant snickered. “Too civilized for you?” 

“More like too sober. I’ve spent too long with your sorry arse without a drink. Just point me to the nearest waterin’ hole.” 

“I’ve got some stuff at my place.” He whispered, dodging the crowd of residents blocking his way. “I even went through the trouble of getting the power turned on so I could keep it cold. As long as no one decides to bother me, we can head home and-“

“Blue!”

Fuck.

“You’re just the guy I’m looking for.” 

“Hey Piper.” He said with a sheepish smile. “Not looking for another interview are you?”

Cait looked her up and down, she reckoned she couldn’t be more than a couple years younger than her. But she was far prettier, her face young and unblemished from the horrors of the wasteland. I guess that’s what happens when you’re not used to getting your nose bashed in by nearly everyone in your life. She hated goodie two shoes like her, growing up with a silver spoon in their mouths, never having to fight for anything.

But she was pretty.

Maybe that’s why Grant hung out with the likes of her.

“Of course I’m looking for another interview Blue! Do you know well the ‘The Man Out of Time’ sold? Everyone in Diamond City wants to know about 200-year-old miracle of Mr. Grant McKay.”

200 year old? What the hell was she talkin’ about? No way he was a ghoul, his face wasn’t fucked up and wrinkled enough for that. He couldn’t be over 30, no way. 

“Piper, I already gave you one headliner, what more could you possibly want?” He sighed, trying to release some of the tension building up in his chest. 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you could tell me the small little tale of how you managed to take down the biggest boogeyman of the Commonwealth? Cmon, don’t act like you aren’t something special.” 

He threw his head back and sighed for what honestly felt like the 100th time today.

“How bout I give you an alternative headline, ‘Local Man Says No’?” 

“Gotta be a smartass huh? Fine, we’ll do this later then. Oh, and newcomer, welcome to Diamond City.” 

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ wearing out its welcome, I’ll tell you that.” 

“Huh.” Piper snickered. “I like you already. Keep this guy out of trouble alright? You two have fun.”

And just like that, the reporter vanished back into the crowd, headed off to find her next big story.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of explainin’ to do, McKay.” 

“I know, I know.” He murmured, shoving the Home Plate key in the door, hoping to get inside before another do-gooder asked him for another favor. “Just let me get a couple beers in my system first.” 

And here he was. “Home.”

He was never one for interior design. In fact, when he first bought the place from Geneva, he slept next to a broken Nuka-Cola machine and a dozen old milk crates. But you can only come home to that every day for so long until you start goin’ crazy. So over the course of 6 months, he dragged armchairs from Sanctuary and haggled with damn near every merchant in Diamond City and Bunker Hill until he had enough furniture to make the bare concrete box look like a proper home. So look, it was no Hotel Rexford, but damn was he proud of it. And more importantly, he knew Nora would be too. 

“You live here?” Cait remarked, half her body still hanging out the door. “I’ve never seen a place so clean. I bet you could eat off the floor if you had to.” 

“And why the hell would you do that? Sounds like a sure way to lick up some rads.” He pondered, tossing the fridge door open.

“Raiders made me do it once. They thought it’d be funny or something.”

“Oh.” He said, voice barely audible in the dead silence. “I-I’m sorry. I..."

His voice trailed off, unsure of what he could possibly say to remedy such an awful situation. Nothing seemed appropriate, no words seemed fitting to comfort a past trauma like that. So Grant did what he did best. He changed the goddamn topic.

“Deathclaw stew sound good to you?”

“I don’t care.” She droned, collapsing onto his brand new couch. 

He found that couch in an abandoned department store in nearly perfect condition, surprising considering the fact that the rest of the place had been torn to shreds by super mutants. It took a lot of elbow grease to get all of the blood and dust out of it but once he was done, it looked as good as it did pre-war.

So you can imagine how hard he cringed when Cait put her mud-caked boots up on the hand rests. If he wasn’t so exhausted he’d scold her, tell her to bend over and show her where shoes really belonged but there were bigger things to worry about and he knew how to pick his battles. 

And God the aroma of that stew sure made you forget about all your worries. 

The savory smell of whatever the fuck Grant was cooking was enough to make her mouth water, God she couldn’t remember the last time she had a real meal. Now that she thought about it, she never really had one. Her “parents” fed her table scraps, the kind of stuff feral dogs wouldn’t touch. The next of her tormenters fed her slog, a strange-looking gloop that smelled, looked, and tasted like vomit. She wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was puke. And Tommy? Well, he was a cold bastard, concerned about caps and caps only. She had grown used to eating expired canned meat from before the war, the mere thought of eating any more Cram made her sick to her stomach.

So yeah, she was used to eating pure shite. But here he was, cooking her some deathclaw stew. She wasn’t stupid, she knew how much deathclaw meat went for. At least 125 caps at most markets, maybe 100 if you got a good deal. So why exactly was he cooking up the good stuff for her? He could have easily thrown her a pack of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and told her to make do, but he didn’t. Why wasn’t he like everyone else? What the hell was he trying to do?

“Alright.” He stated, desperately trying not to drop the pot of hot stew and two bowls he had pressed up to chest. “Grab whatever drink you desire and come meet me up on the roof.”

“The roof? Why can’t we just eat inside?”

“It’s quieter up there. Better for thinking.”

And with that, he went up the ladder and out the attic door up onto the roof.

What the hell was he thinking, taking her up there? Knowing him, he was probably planning to push her off. She didn't go through all those years of misery just to end up as a giant splat on the Diamond City floor. If she was going up there, she was going prepared. 

She reached over in her pack, which was nearly empty besides one change of clothes and couple doses of Psycho. But hidden in the front pocket was a little combat knife she stole from a sleeping raider years back. If he tried anything, she was more than ready. She tucked it in her front pocket as she threw open the fridge door.

Jesus fuck.

Either this guy was swimming in caps or he was hell of a thief. Every kind of liquor you could possibly imagine arranged neatly one behind the other. Rows and rows of it. She grabbed a bottle of Bobrov’s Best Moonshine, the strongest stuff money could buy. She supposed most people would feel bad taking such an expensive item but if Grant wanted to play pretend nice guy to butter her up, you best believe she was takin’ advantage of that. 

She made her way up to the little attic, taking a quick scan to see if there were any weapons she could use if the whole knife plan didn’t work out. It was a little habit she learned at the Combat Zone, one that kept her alive more times than she could count.

“There you are, stew was beginning to get cold. Bobrov’s Best?” He questioned, eyeing the bottle she had tucked in her hand. “So you like the strong stuff huh?”

“I’m Irish, what do you think?” She said with rolled eyes, plopping down in the lawn chair.

“Fair enough. Well help yourself, I guess.”

Grant didn’t know she’d take it so literally. 

He watched as she slurped up bowl after bowl, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had only had one bowl compared to her six and counting. He couldn’t help but let it happen, he wasn’t heartless you know? She couldn’t have been fed well in the Combat Zone, this had to be the first home-cooked meal she had had in a while. Might as well let her enjoy it. 

“How’s the stew?” He asked, throwing back another shot to keep the hunger pangs away.

“Fuckin’ amazin’. Best thing I’ve eaten in me whole life.” She responded, pausing for a second before returning to her bowl. 

“Good, good. Just take it easy alright? You’ll get sick if you keep it up.”

“You a fuckin’ doctor, McKay?” Cait sneered, setting her bowl down on the plastic table. “Why dontcha give yourself a prostate exam and fuck off.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He relented, leaning back in his chair and staring out at the stars and the city.

He was so goddamn focused that he didn’t even notice that Cait had finished the whole pot and had begun getting herself blackout drunk.

She looked over at the man, his eyes locked onto the sky up above like the stars had spelled out the magic answer to life or somethin’. What the hell was he lookin’ at? The sky would be there every single night, yet he looked as if he was soakin’ in every moment he could get with it before it disappeared. Jesus, maybe she had overestimated what he was capable of. How was a guy so starstruck with the fuckin’ moon supposed to push her off the roof?

She watched him for another 5 minutes, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing before soon growing tired of his angsty contemplation. 

“Alright, I’m hittin’ the hay.” 

“Take my bed if you want to.” He replied, head still turned up to the sky. “It’s softer than the couch.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Like she was falling for that. He probably thought he was bein’ real slick, inviting her to bed so he could slit her throat while she was sleeping. Yeah, she wasn't as stupid as he thought she was.

So she took her spot on the living room floor, shivering as the ice-cold hardwood floor sapped away what little body heat she had. The cold and her paranoia made it impossible for her to sleep, thoughts of never waking up danced around in her mind as she stared at the constellations on the popcorn ceiling. 

But as she began to drift to sleep, she realized not a single soul would care if she didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! As you can probably tell, I abandoned the main quest from the game and decided for the fanfic to follow a whole different story. So if there's any specific side quests you'd like me to write about or even your own custom quest, let me know and I'll do my best to include it. Also if you have a specific preference to whether Cait and Grant's romance is a slow burn or if they warm up to each other quickly, let me know in the comments. I plan on writing their romance to the end, maybe even till marriage but anything goes! Thanks again for reading!


	3. Burn It Up

Cait bolted up from the floor, her throat aching as she desperately wanted to scream. But after so many years of sleeping next to folks who wouldn’t hesitate to blow your head off, she had learned to keep quiet, to keep her nightmares to herself. 

But that one, that one felt so real. She could practically see the fear on their faces, the terror in her mother’s matching green eyes, the beads of sweat dripping down her father’s stubbled chin. God, and the mess. The blood pooling near their slumped over bodies, the brains splattered on all of the trailer walls, the way the stench stuck onto her clothes no matter how long she tried to scrub it out. 

She swore she could still smell their blood on the blanket she had draped around her, the-

Blanket? She didn’t have a blanket last night, how the hell did it get on her?

Grant.

That bastard must of put it on her while she was sleeping last night. It was supposed to be a nice gesture, but the thought of him standing over her while she was asleep sent chills down her spine. God, how could she not have noticed? Yeah, he didn’t do anything to her this time but what happened when he wanted a shag? When he was sick of dealing with her? She couldn’t go through that again. The next time it happened, she would wake up, she had to.

Speaking of him, where in the hell was he?

===

Grant clutched the contract with an iron grip, rereading those words that made his stomach turn over and over until he saw red. He had seen unspeakable horrors in the Commonwealth for sure, things that he had only read in horror novels before the war, but this. This had to be the worst thing he had ever read with his own two eyes. 

WITH MY BLOOD, UPON SIGNING THIS CONTRACT, I DO SWEAR TO RELINQUISH THE RIGHTS OF CAIT O’REILLY, DOB APRIL 8TH, 2261, DAUGHTER OF BRENNAN AND QUINN O’REILLY, TO THE BOSCO GANG. HER MENTAL, PHYSICAL AND INTELLECTUAL RIGHTS ARE NOW THEIRS AND SHALL NOT BE RETURNED UNLESS AGREED UPON.

Below that shit was Tommy Lonegan’s signature, a sloppily written T and L that slanted all the wrong ways, and below _that_ , was his own, an official reminder that he, Grant McKay, owned a slave. Even just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t exactly read the contract when it was presented to him, Tommy sorta just shoved a paper and a pen in his face and he was stupid enough to sign without another thought. 

He wasn’t going to lie and say that he liked Cait, hell, he didn’t even fucking understand her. But for her to be a slave? His slave? He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t give a shit if he lost her “mental, physical and intellectual” rights, he couldn’t live with himself if he let the contract stand.

So he did what he had to do.

Pulling the lighter out of his pocket, he held the contract up to the sunlight, pressing the little red flame up to the corner of the paper, and watched as it began to burn and shrivel up. 

Cait couldn’t believe her fucking eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” She screamed, the power in her voice nearly sending him out of his chair and off of the roof. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, body still shaking from the near-death experience. “I’m burning this shit up Cait, it’s fucked. I didn’t realize it was a slave contract. I don’t want to own you. If you’re with me, you’re with me because of your own choice, not because of some fucked up contract written up by a raider 8 years ago.” 

She watched as the words that chained her to tormenters for 8 miserable years burned up and floated away in the wind, forever freeing her from belonging to another man. 

A mix of feelings fought for dominance in her brain eventually numbing out into the dull trob of confusion. She didn’t know what the hell she was feeling right now and that terrified her. She knew what she _should_ be feeling. She _should_ be grateful, this man just did the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her, he freed her from a lifetime of doing another man’s bidding. But something deep down inside of her told her it wasn’t that simple. Grant must have known that she had nowhere to go, that she wouldn’t leave him even if freed from her contract. He probably thought that burning it up would get her to warm up to him, to make his existence anymore bearable to her.

Well spoilers, he was still an asshole and she still hated his guts. Take that Grant.

“Well, there’s that.” He sighed, the last of the contract completely burned up, lost to the winds. “You can leave if you want. I get it, I don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to stay with me. My original offer still stands. Caps, food, beer, you can take whatever you want. I’ll cook up another stew if you want, it won’t take longer than thirty minutes.“

Why did he have to be so fucking weird? Why couldn’t he just be like everyone else? Because he was like everyone else at first. Just another asshole who stole her away from home, legally able to do whatever he wanted to her. But he destroyed her contract, set her free, and offered her everything she needed to live a life without him. Why the hell was he pretending to be nice? What did he want from her?

“Why exactly are ya so damn eager to get rid of me?” Cait spat, hiding the murky mess of feelings bubbling underneath her hard exterior. 

“Well you’re not exactly the most pleasant person to deal with but it’s not like I actively want to get rid of you.” He explained. 

It wasn’t a lie but he didn’t know whether he would have responded the same a couple of hours ago. To be honest, reading that slave contract, getting a little snippet of what she had gone through before he found her, had really shifted his whole perspective. It didn’t change the fact that she was a paranoid bitch who drove him crazy, but it's hard to hate someone when you see the hell they had to go through. And slavery? God, it had to have been one of the worst hells a human could go through. So he would try his gosh darn hardest to not be like everyone else and to not be such an asshole to her. But no promises. He knew the kind of attitude she was capable of and look, he wasn’t sure how long his patience could last. But as of right now, he could stand a little bit of her bite. 

“You’re free to come with me. Preston mentioned there was a settlement in need of help actually, I wouldn’t mind having some backup.” 

“Fine then.” She relented, refusing to look too needy. “I’ll come, just don’t expect me to bail out your sorry arse in a firefight.” 

“I don’t expect you to Cait. Just don’t expect me to give you a stimpak when your sorry ass gets knocked on the ground.” He smirked, tossing her a mutfruit. 

“God I can’t wait to use you to soak up the bullets.” 

“Heh, don’t count on it.”

\---

Cait bit into her third mutfruit, its sticky purple juices running down her chin. 

She looked over at her companion, his eyes once again locked onto the horizon. What the hell was his deal with the sky? She remembered how intensely he looked at the stars yesterday, more focused on constellations that had died millions of years ago instead of the food or alcohol right beside him. He must have stayed on the roof almost all night. She hadn’t seen him anywhere else. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“Huh?” He said, snapped out of his daze. “No, I didn’t. I stayed up on the roof for a while, then went downstairs to wash the dishes and found you lying on the floor, shaking like a damn methhead. Out of all areas in that house, you really had to pick the most uncomfortable place to sleep? I know how damn cold the floors get at night. Anyway, I threw a blanket over you and went back up.”

“What’s your damn obsession with that roof? You suicidal or somethin’?”

“I told you already. It’s quiet up there, good for thinking.”

“And what the hell could you be thinking about for that long?” She sneered, her voice far more accusatory than she intended.

“Oh you know,” Grant shrugged, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, “just the normal stuff; the purpose of life, why we’re here.”

“Normal stuff? I don’t know a single bloke that’s ever thought about the meaning of life besides you. You really must be suicidal.”

“You’ve hung out with slavers and raider gangs, you really think they’re the most philosophical bunch?” 

“You act like I chose to surround myself with that lot voluntarily.” Cait snapped, with half a mind to rip his throat out. “They were too focused on survivin’ to ponder stupid bullshit like that. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from them.”

Jesus fucking Christ. It was a fucking joke Cait, one goddamn joke, turned into a lecture. What the hell was her deal? God he sure wished he had Nora’s patience right now. Cause if he had it his way, he would sure show her some raider behavior. In fact, he was damn near close to it before he thought about those words. Those god awful words he read this morning. A pang of pity tinged in his stomach, one painful enough to stop whatever insult he wanted to throw her way right now. So whatever, he’d deal with whatever damn thing she wanted to call him, as long as it kept them moving down the road. 

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I get it, I’ll be less thinky thinky, more stabby stabby.”

What the hell was this guy doing, she thought. Why the hell was he apologizing to her when she was the one being a pain in the rear end? Keeping on the nice guy act huh? Fine, let’s see how long he could keep it up.

The two of them walked in silence again, the awkwardness and tension too much for them to overcome. At least they were almost there.

Ah, Normandy Beach.

Grant looked down at the sand beneath his feet, once a smooth, gentle hue of gold now a muted shade of brown, shards of glass and bullets mixed into the mess. It’s a wonder really, how everything the Commonwealth touched turned to shit. He remembered how pristine this whole place was before the war, back when Nora and him used to frequent the place as a date spot. Midnight walks in the moonlight, picnics on the beach. God, look at it now. Empty. A wealth of memories reduced to a single brick shack with a couple plastic flamingos stuck in the sand. 

Pathetic. 

Upon walking up closer, a figure came into sight, hunched over next to a cooking station, their entire body still and devoid of movement.

“Ya think he’s dead?” Cait asked, the volume of her voice making the head of the man shoot up.

“Jesus Cait, are you capable of whispering?”

“Never saw the use for it honestly.”

The man rose from his concrete block, practically sprinting to meet the two. He couldn’t have been more than 25 but the bags beneath his eyes and the lines on his face aged him far past his years. It was clear he had concerns far more serious than what Grant faced back when he was that age.

“Thank God you’re here. You’re with the Minutemen right?”

“Yes sir, General McKay at your service.” Grant smiled, giving him a little bow. “How can I help?”

“There’s a gang of raiders nearby, at Easy City Downs. They’ve started to terrorize us a couple months ago, stealing our food and supplies, threatening us if we don’t have what they want. They told me if I didn’t have 1000 caps for them the next time they came around, they’d...they’d take my wife and son. I can’t lose them General, I can’t stand up to them alone!” 

His voice reeked of desperation, the fear causing his voice to shake. He was clearly scared out of his goddamn mind and who could blame him? 

How pathetic, Cait thought. No way they were putting their lives on the line for this sad sack of shit. 

“We’ll take care of those raiders for you. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ve got to be fuckin' kidding me!” Cait roared, her face pressed up to Grant’s.

“Will you excuse us for a second?” He asked, turning to the settler. 

He nodded and headed back inside to his small brick house, leaving the two companions alone on the beach. 

“We’re not putting our lives on the fuckin' line for a lowlife settler, especially not for free!” 

Grant sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out which words would calm her down this time. Was she really blowing up over the fact that he was trying to help this poor guy out? Was she really that selfish? There had to be something more behind this.

“You really gonna pass up on the chance to bash in some raider skulls? Even if it’s for a lowlife settler, a dead raider is a dead raider.” 

He did have a point. Nothing made her happier than stompin’ a bunch of raiders. But God she hated this stupid nice guy persona Grant put on. It drove her goddamn crazy. She knew who he was, what he was, and she knew damn well that he wasn’t doing all these favors for free. No way she was doing this. 

But then again, she really fucking hated raiders.

“You’re damn lucky that I hate those nobs more than I hate you.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “it’s a low bar but I’ll take it. Now c’mon let’s go kick some raider ass.”

Now _there_ was the Grant that she could tolerate. 


	4. Nothing Easy About This

“No way I’m answering that. No fuckin' way.”

“C’mon,” Grant implored, “it’s not that bad, just answer it. Would you rather fuck a ghoul or a super mutant?”

“I’m not shaggin' a shambler.”

“So the sup-“

“But I’m not fuckin' a mutie either!” She yelled back, fighting to keep a smile hidden. “Why don’t you answer your own stupid question?

“Easy.” He grinned. “I’d have to fuck the ghoul. Are girl super mutants even a thing?”

She thought about it for a second, trying to recall all her fighting experience with the giant green monsters.

“Never seen a female Super Mutant before and you know what? Never want to.” 

“Fair, fair. Now answer.” He demanded.

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“I said no!”

“Please?” He begged, turning to look at her with puppy eyes.

She turned to throw him a side glance, to shut down his dumb would you rather question but when she looked into his ash-grey eyes, she noticed something different about them. His eyes were different in this moment, softer than she had ever seen them before. The cold asshole persona he put on was gone and in its place were the eyes of someone who cared, someone who felt emotions deeper than anything he had ever shown her before. 

Wait what the fuck? What the hell was her mind going on about? His eyes were the same dull shade of grey that they always were and they only looked soft because he was trying to manipulate her into answering his dumb question. Grant was still a cold asshole and would always be one. End of story.

End. Of. Story.

“Fine. I’d fuck the shambler. I think I rather shoot meself than see a big green super mutie naked.”

“Exactly! See? Was that so hard?” 

“Well it was a fuckin’ dumb-“

“Was that so hard?” He repeated. 

“McKay, I’ve got half a mind to rip your fuckin’ throat out right now, so don’t push it.”

Grant put his head down, sighing at another failed attempt to make nice with her. If he could get a synth lover and a man who wanted to blast every single Gen 3 synth off the face off the Earth to play nice, why couldn’t he get him and Cait to do the same?

Look unless one of them got taken out by a stray landmine, the two of them were going to be together for a while. They didn’t have to like each other but why was she so goddamn insistent on making their time together as miserable as possible? He was trying so hard to be patient with her, but it seemed as if the more he tried, the more he failed. He’d been alone on the road for so long and now that he had a companion to join him on the journey, she just had to be the biggest pain in the ass in the Commonwealth. 

Great.

Well, maybe some betting would take his mind off of it. 

“A race track?” Cait questioned, staring at the bright yellow sign ahead of them. “Now this might be a nice place to win a few caps.”

“You can have all the caps you want Cait, let’s just take care of these bastards first.” He muttered, fiddling with the forestock of his beloved “Le Fusil Terribles”, a shotgun he ripped off the raiders at Libertalia. 

Curie was the one who suggested the name “The Terrible Rifle”, and like all things in life, it sounded so much sexier in French.

“Alright,” she stated, “so what’s the plan then?

“Plan? We don’t need a plan, let’s just storm that shithole and paint the walls with raider blood.”

God, she’d never heard any sexier words in her life. Why couldn’t he be like this all the time? He’d sure be a hell of a lot more likable.

And boy did he mean it when he said they were storming the place. Grant sprinted in, immediately shooting at the first thing that moved. 

Cait barely had any time to stop and watch him fight the bastards, but the little glimpses she did manage to catch were a thing of sheer beauty. When he fought, it was like he transformed into a whole different person, a whole different animal. He was uptight normally, every move he made so forced. But he seemed so natural as he swung his shotgun round the room. She could get used to this Grant. 

“Fucking kill!” He laughed maniacally, throwing his head back as he emptied out his gun at everyone and everything. “C’mon you bastards, come get some!”

God, he was having the time of his life. His whole life he was forced to fight strategically, every move, every shot calculated by some clueless higher up. He thought he would escape that once he left the military but then came the Brotherhood, where he was under the watchful eye of Maxson and Danse. But with Cait? She knew she wouldn’t give a damn. He was finally free. For as much as the two clashed normally, they worked in perfect unison as they took down the raiders, blowing holes in anyone that dared to cross them.

“Meathead at 11 o clock!” He called out, prompting Cait to immediately turn around and bash a raider boss’s skull in with her trusty swatter. 

She wondered how he did that, how he had this 6th sense of where enemies lurked, who was hiding in the shadows. As much as she hated him sometimes, he knew what the hell he was doing when it came to kicking ass. She may not have liked him, but she had to give him props. 

In his eyes, taking down the raiders was easy, it always was. They got far too much credit considering the fact they were nothing more than a bunch of unwanteds armed with crude homemade guns that looked like a middle school project. 

But the bots? Well, they weren’t so easy. 

“Goddammit! Fuckin’ robots.” She cursed. “I was hoping to spill some more blood.”

Grant felt a little bad shooting at the Mister Handy’s, every one of those metal balls looked just like Codsworth, the only robot he’d ever admit having compassion for. But the only thing those assaultrons, Mister Gutsy’s and protectrons would get from him was a fucking shotgun shell to the chest. 

If only he could avoid their wrath first. 

“Watch out for the laser eye!” Cait cried out, diving behind a wooden bench. 

“Shit!” 

He covered his face, trying to protect his beautiful mug from the flying splinters that were being rained down on them. God, he hated those fucking robots. He poked his head out from out of his cover, trying to get a good look at the assaultron, it’s laser fury focused on Cait. Shifting in his spot, he tried to find a good angle to take them out, until his attention was turned to other matters.

Where the hell was her shotgun? 

He scanned the floor, looking for her weapon until he found it, several feet away from her, her trusty gun reduced to a flaming piece of ash. 

Fuck. 

“Cait!” He cried out, drawing the attention of the redhead. “Take this!” He chucked Le Fusil Terribles over to her, the butt of the gun landing right in her lap.

Damn, he was good. 

He ripped his pistol from its holster and stood straight up, alerting the assaultron to his location. 

“Hey you hunk of metal! Yeah, you! C’mon, let’s fucking rumble!”

Grant began to aim his .44 pistol at the robot’s legs, the little bullets bouncing off easily. It did little to damage the robot but did a whole lot to piss it off. 

Picking up the shotgun Grant had thrown her way, she aimed her gun at the assaultron, who was almost on top of a nearly helpless Grant, his tiny pistol doing little against such a trained metallic killer. 

He backpedaled, desperately trying to finish off the bot before it got a chance to fire its laser or snap him up with its giant claws, but it was beginning to look bleak. It was almost certainly over when he found himself backed into a wall, nowhere to go. He was never one to give up but he knew when he was beat.

He closed his eyes, waiting for his imminent death.

But it never came.

Instead, the knees of the giant robot buckled, its head hitting the floor with a huge clank. He looked down at the conquered hunk of metal, taking deep ragged breaths to try and calm himself as he dealt with yet another near-death experience. 

After a couple seconds, he looked up at the conquerer, the one who took the beast down. 

Cait. 

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both of them exhausted from such a long duel, taking deep gulps of air as they both tried to deal with what the hell just happened. The deafening gunshots of the battle were now replaced with dead silence.

Grant was the first one to break it.

“That...was fucking awesome! How’s that for excitement?” He hollered, arms spread wide in a victory pose.

She couldn’t help but smile. As much as she hated to admit it, she was having the time of her life.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time, dontcha?”

“Damn right I do!” 

The two of them took a seat on the floor next to each other, surrounded by destroyed robot limbs and piles of ash. Together they basked in the adrenaline and sweet smell of post-victory sweat, truly enjoying the other’s company for the first time. But once the rush wore off, the two had to come to the stark realization to what really just occurred. 

They had saved each other’s lives. 

Cait couldn’t believe it, not for a single second. Not only did he save her, but he had put his own life on the line for it. Did he really just do that for her? She wanted to thank him, to show that she was grateful for his selfless act but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. In fact, the only thing she could bear to say was:

“Well, you can thank me anytime now.” 

Grant had no problem admitting his gratitude, he knew damn well that without her, he’d be toast. Literally. Cait had saved his goddamn life and did it skillfully. He was damn glad that she had been there instead of anyone else.

“Well, I guess you did end up bailing my sorry ass out huh?” He laughed. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know how much a human life is worth nowadays, but how about we split any caps we find around here 10:90? And the next round is on me. Just a little thank you for saving my life.”

Caps and alcohol? He sure knew the way to her heart.

She knew the raiders, maybe a little more than she’d like to and she knew just how greedy those bastards were. There had to be at least 500 caps lying around this place and he was about to give her 90% of it? She fantasied about the amount of Psycho she could buy with all that but she was suddenly snapped back into her suspicion. 

“Yer pullin’ me leg! There’s no way you’re passin’ on that many caps.”

“I know I look like it, but I’m not a psycho wanderer who lives in the gutter and drinks his own piss, I’ve got more caps than I know what to do with. Trust me, I’m not losing much by giving those up.”

But she _didn’t_ trust him and probably never could. Letting your guard down and trusting people was exactly how you got stabbed in the back and she had been there too many times. There had to be some sort of ulterior motive behind all these selfless acts he’d been doing for her. There was no way she would pass up on so many caps but she promised herself she would find out what he was trying to do. Eventually. 

“Alright, let’s search the place then. I’m betting there’s a boatload of loot lying around.” Grant smiled, rubbing his hands together manically. 

The Raiders weren’t exactly known as the cleanest bunch but the Easy City Downs ones were true filth and lived in it too. Sifting through their corpses and piles of shit wasn’t exactly his idea of a good afternoon but a couple stashes of caps would make it all worth it. He poked at their dead bodies with a stray piece of bench wood, their heavy bodies showing little movement even as he jabbed them over and over. Maybe he had given them too much credit. Because only a smart person would keep their caps on them, so they could defend their prized possession. An idiot raider keeps them in an unconcealed box labeled “CAPS”. 

Three metal boxes stuffed with at least 120 caps, just casually thrown around the place. Man, he loved those dumbasses. He tucked the boxes under his arm, strolling through the entire racetrack in search of Cait. Walking through the stables, the adjacent diner, and even the stands, there was no sight of the fighter. It was almost like she had disappeared without a trace. 

It wasn’t until he went upstairs to the second floor that he saw a glimpse of her fiery red mane.

“Cait, you won’t believe what I found, there’s gotta be like 400 caps in these things, can you believe that those idiots just le...”

He stopped talking once he realized that she wasn’t listening. Turning to look at her, he realized her full attention was turned to a raider corpse. 

She stood over his dead body, breath shaking as she stared into those brown eyes she fell in love with so many years ago, now hollow and empty. She felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen, the tension growing in her face and limbs, her mind replaying the last days they spent together. 

God not now, not now. 

Psycho. She needed Psycho. Just one dose. She needed the rush, she needed something to stop all the fucking thinking. 

Could she do it behind his back without him noticing, what if he did see, what if-

“Cait?” 

“Fuck!” 

Instinctively, she swung around, slamming a fist into the face of whatever idiot had decided to touch her, reeling once she had realized who she just hit. 

Grant grabbed the side of his cheek, tongue lapping up the blood that had to begun to pool in his mouth. He always knew Cait had one hell of a right hook but holy fuck. His ears rang like crazy, he felt sick to his goddamn stomach, and hey were those stars? 

“Ugh.” He groaned, bent over in pain. “Fuck.”

She wanted to apologize, she needed to, but when she tried to speak, the words got stuck in her throat, and it didn’t matter how hard she tried to force them up. 

“Really Cait?” Grant asked in disbelief. “You’ve got nothing to say? Nothing at all?”

She stared into his ash-grey eyes, the ones full of softness this morning, now burning with anger. Her heart fell silent. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t will her lips to move.

“Are you even fucking sorry?”

Her mind raced so fast it was beginning to hurt. It wasn’t hard, all she had to do was say two words, two fucking words and she could fix what she had done. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t croak out one goddamn word. How did she manage to fuck up the simplest goddamn task? Nice going, idiot. 

“Fine. I get it alright?” He relented, rising up from off his knees. “You fucking hate me, lesson learned. I won’t bother anymore.” 

Why couldn’t he just be an asshole? Why couldn’t he just yell at her, hit her back like everyone else would have done? She could have dealt with that, she wasn’t new to aggression. But he didn’t. 

God, what did she just do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks so much for your continued support. I've finally worked out a consistent posting schedule, so new chapters will be up every Wednesday. I've already written six more chapters and I can't wait to share them with you guys!


	5. Beer on the Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self Harm

It had been a week since that day at the racetrack, whatever semblance of a friendship they had prior to it completely gone. 

They hadn’t said a single word to each other for 7 days, in fact, they had barely even seen one another. As soon as they had reached Home Plate, Grant went straight up to the roof and hadn’t came down since. Seriously. He didn’t come down to eat or sleep, he just stayed up there all day long.

It wasn’t to prove a point or anything, despite what he was sure Cait was thinking. He wasn’t mad, he just needed to be away from her. It was disappointing, he really did want to be friends. But for her to hit him like that and not apologize? It hurt. Yeah they didn’t know each other for very long but it still felt like a betrayal of some sort, a let down.

He didn’t want to give up but you’ve got to know when to throw in the towel and look, she hadn’t shown any interest in forming any sort of relationship with him, so he was done. How long could he keep watering a dead plant? 

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he exhaled the grey stench out into the night sky, staring intently at the blackness of it all, looking for an answer somewhere up in the cosmos. Look, he wasn’t one of those crazy “woo woo” people who thought the sky had healing powers or whatever but for Grant, the night was the most beautiful art, alive with raw energy. It was a constant, no matter what he had gone through or what mistakes he had made, it was there at the end of the day, ready to hear about whatever was troubling him. 

“What the hell do I do about Cait?” He murmured, half to himself and half to the sky.

It garnered no response, just like every other day before that. That’s just what happens when you talked to the stars. Maybe he’d figure out what to do eventually. But as of right now, all he could do was lean back and watch the world go by.

===

She didn’t know why she felt so awful. Stratton was just like everyone else, a stupid asshole who took advantage of her. And he was dead now. Just another corpse littering the Easy City Downs floor. But God, seeing him just reminded her of the times they had together and all the ways he hurt her. He had hurt her in a whole new way, a way that her parents and slavers hadn’t before. He was the reason she couldn’t bring herself to let her guard down around Grant, the reason she couldn’t trust anyone anymore. She was stupid for ever loving him and even stupider for still letting him hurt her. 

She looked up into the mirror, the space underneath her eyes dark and puffy from so many nights of staring blankly at the ceiling, just wishing it would all just stop.

Taking the combat knife into her hand, she ran the tip of the blade across her wrist, her face still and emotionless as she did it. After all, what was there to be emotional about? She had done this hundreds of times before. Just like Psycho, she had been doing it ever since her parents sold her into slavery, just so she could feel something besides the endless void of misery that swallowed her up inside each and every day. 

Grant headed downstairs, looking to grab another cold beer before heading back up to the roof. But as he opened the fridge door, he felt some sort of magnetic pull towards the bathroom. Why the hell was the light on? A heavy weight sunk into in his chest as he headed towards it, a sense of panic that something wasn’t right. He did his best to keep his composure but he hadn’t had this awful feeling in a very long time.

“Cait? What are yo... Oh no.”

“Shite!” She cried out, trying to conceal the knife and her arm from him.

But it was too late, he had seen everything. 

He grabbed the knife from her hand and threw it into the sink, the blood splattering and staining the pristine white ceramic. He gently took her cut up arm, gripping it lightly as if she would shatter if he squeezed too hard.

“Oh Cait.” He muttered sadly, looking at the dozens of angry red lines that marked her left arm. Older ones. Recent ones. The ones she just cut, still puffy, red and bloody. He ran a finger over the older ones, his heart dropping when he felt how deep they went. 

Still gripping her arm, he pushed the toilet lid down, urging her to take a seat. He then knelt down beside her, and began to dress her wounds.

She couldn’t understand why he was doing this. Why the hell was he being so gentle and patient with her? Why was he even bothering to clean her up? She didn’t really want to think about it. Too much thinking always ended up fucking her over even more. So instead she turned her attention to how damn good he was at first aid. He wrapped the bandages around her arm at lightning speed, reducing the slow trickle of blood to a complete stop.

God he wished he had more arm to wrap. Right now he could focus on cleaning her up, on stopping the bleeding but after he was done? He had no clue what to say to her, he didn’t even know if any words could shoulder so much weight. What do you say to heal so much pain? But as he looked down at her fully bandaged arm, he realized he was up, that he needed to find something, anything to say. 

Oh God, here it came. She braced herself for his stupid pity, the meaningless its okays and the empty I’m sorrys that she loathed. But she should have known better. It was Grant after all and Grant, Grant was fucking weird.

“Beer on the roof?” He asked. 

Beer? That sounded like a good plan. 

“Fine, but don’t expect me to start gushin’ about me feelings or anythin’.”

“Don’t expect you to.” He agreed. “Now what’ll it be, Gwinnett stout, Dirty Wastelander or a Nuke Cola Dark?” 

“Why choose just one?”

He smiled, boy did he like the sound of that. 

===

They drank in silence, both of them hoping that the answer to their problems lied at the bottom of the bottle and then the next bottle and the next. And so the night dragged on. Few words were exchanged between the pair, the words that were spoken, slurred and senseless.

Cait had to admit it, he was being hell of a drinking buddy right now. He was probably the only guy in the Commonwealth who could keep up with her, matching every beer she drank, tit for tat. Best of all, he wasn’t trying to push some stupid conversation where they talked about their feelings and shit. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought he was.

“Grant?” She called out, putting her bottle down.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry for hittin’ you. It was an accident.”

He tongued the side of his cheek, swearing that if he licked at the spot long enough, he could still taste the blood.

“Hit me awfully hard for it to be an accident, don’t ya think?”

“Well you shouldn’t have fuckin’ touched me!” She roared back, her apologetic state suddenly evaporated. 

He shot her a look, one that told her she was in the wrong. If any other guy dared look at her like that, she’d rip their goddamn throat out but she knew he was right, that she needed to just suck it up and apologize. 

“Sorry I hurt you. Even if it was an accident.”

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

Good, she thought. That was that with the stupid feeling stuff. Well, it _was_ for a couple minutes. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Fuckin’ hell, Grant.

“Depends on whether it’s a stupid question or not.”

“Who was that raider guy you were staring at when we were at the racetrack?”

Oh God. Her stomach dropped just thinking about Stratton. She sure as hell didn’t want to talk about that waste of humanity right now but... she owed him. She did hit the living shit out of him after all. 

She sighed and began to tell the story she had been trying so hard to forget. 

“I got close to a guy named Stratton while I was at the Combat Zone. Thought we really had somethin’ goin’. One night we had a fight cause I wouldn’t hop in the sack with him. Our fight got pretty bad, nothin’ physical, just a whole lot of yellin’. So I get pissed off, and I leave. I get outside and a bunch of Raiders start pushin’ me around, givin’ me shite. Stratton walks out, looks at me and says ‘Next time you’ll think twice before walkin’ out on me.’ Fucker left me there. I got beat up pretty good that night. That’s when I learned that nobody does favors for free.” 

Well whatever the hell he was expecting to hear, that was _not_ it. That sure explained a whole lot. God, she must have thought that he was just another Stratton, just another asshole who was waiting for something in return from her. Well Grant sure was an asshole but he was gonna make sure she knew that everything he did was out of the goodness of his heart, and nothing less. 

She deserved that.

He grabbed the last two beers from the case next to him and popped them open, offering one to his companion.

“Here’s to that bastard getting what he deserved.”

Yeah, she could cheers to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! Just a word of warning, the next two chapters are very quest heavy. I'm sure you guys are reading for the romance and not for random side quests, so to compensate for this, I'll be publishing two chapters next week rather than the usual one. Don't worry, the romance is soon to come!


	6. Three Things

“Colonial Taphouse?” Cait scoffed. “This place is full of Upper Stand snobs, why aren’t we murderin’ a pint on the roof instead?”

“Cait, I don’t know if you noticed it but we’ve been run dry, I’ve got nothing left. Now, I should be getting another shipment from The Third Rail soon but you know Whitechapel ain’t the most reliable guy, uh, robot, so we have to make do until he sends it over.”

“What about Dugout Inn?” She asked. 

“One of the guards told me that Vadim and Yefim were getting into a pretty heated argument and honestly, I’d rather deal with the snobs than the bickering.”

“As long as we get stinkin’ drunk, I couldn’t care less about where we do it at.”

To be completely honest, she _was_ a little disappointed that they weren’t getting wasted on the roof tonight, considering the fact that it was somewhat of a tradition for the two at this point. After a long day of fighting bastards in the Commonwealth, no matter how beat up or tired they were, they’d always take the time crack open an ice cold beer and drink it on the roof together. Sometimes they chatted, sometimes they argued, but they were always drunk out of their goddamn mind when they did. She’d never tell him, but it was her favorite part of the day. 

And well, if Grant was looking to avoid a fight, they was at the wrong place.

“C’mon Darcy, let’s go.” The settler in the blue jacket urged.

“Take it easy. I don’t think she wants to leave just yet.” 

“Hey, this is between me and my wife! Why don’t you mind your own damn business for once Cooke?”

“Oh God.” Grant muttered, throwing his head back. “Let’s just find anothe-“

“No let’s stay, I wanna see who wins.”

He did feel a *little* weird staying to watch this whole adultery, dick measuring competition but he had to admit it, it was damn entertaining. Hell of a lot better than the Christmas play the Vault 81 kids put on every year. 

Cait on the other hand, wasn’t so amused. 

“This is borin’, somebody do somethin’ already!”

Too much talkin’, and not enough action. What was the point of hurling insults at someone if you didn’t intend to beat them into pulp later? 

“You better get out of here Paul.” The bartender threatened. “Before you do something stupid.”

The tension in his voice was a low rumble, like a volcano on the verge of a catastrophic reaction. There was more than just caution behind his words, there was anger, a protectiveness. A fight was brewing and Grant had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pretty. 

“You son of a bitch!” 

Paul ran up Cooke, his arm cocked back and ready to strike.

Cait couldn’t help but cringe at his terrible form; this guy couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag if he had to. Thumb tucked in, body leaned forward? The raiders at the Combat Zone would have a fuckin’ field day with him.

Paul connected on the first hit but it only seemed to ignite a fire in the bartender. Cooke dodged his other punch and countered with his own, grabbing Paul’s head and bringing his knee cap up to his nose. The sickening crack echoing throughout the bar. 

He curled up helplessly on the ground, crimson dripping from both of his nostrils, darkening his blue jacket. He was goddamn lucky Cooke didn’t kill him right then and there, he damn well could have if he wanted to. Paul staggered up off his feet, swiping at his nose in an attempt to clean himself up. 

“Go on. Get out of here.” Cooke urged.

“I’ll be at home Darcy. Taking care of our son.” 

And out the door he went, head hanging like a sad little puppy.

“How the hell do you recover from that?” Cait snickered. “How the hell do you show your face around here after getting your ass kicked by your wife’s lover?”

Grant shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t help but feel for the guy. Must be a tough situation. Finding out your wife is cheating on you with some random guy and getting your ass kicked by him must really be a huge blow to your pride. 

“Sorry you had to see that. Things are usually a lot quieter around here, perfect place to drink, if you’re buying.”

“I’ll pass.” Grant snorted. “C’mon Cait, let’s check out the Dugout Inn.”

“Wait.” Darcy called out, spinning around in her bar stool. “I haven’t seen you around before. Before you leave, why don’t you make yourself useful and buy me a drink?”

“You don’t look like you need another drink. Go find another random guy to hit on.”

Cait snorted, his “Grant-isms” were actually pretty damn funny when they weren’t directed towards her. 

“Aren’t you all high and mighty then? Why don’t you leave me alone so I can drink in peace?”

“Gladly.”

They two were halfway to the Dugout Inn when they spotted the poor bloke, still rubbing his nose like a damn idiot.

“Hey, you there. I uh, I have a question for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ, couldn’t a guy get an ice cold beer without getting himself wrapped into another man’s marital problems? He sighed, he was the “Sole Survivor”, the “savior of the Commonwealth” and all that other bullshit after all. He guessed this stuff just came with the job.

“I’m listening.”

“You were in the Taphouse before when...”

“You got your ass kicked by your wife’s lover.” Cait interrupted.

“Yeah.” Paul snorted. “Pretty pathetic right? Guy’s sleeping with my wife, and I can’t even do anything about it.”

“Well everyone’s got their problems, pal.” 

Grant turned to walk away but Paul grabbed him by his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Wait! No, I need your help. I’ll... I’ll pay you. I’ve got some money, and I can get more.”

“Some caps might make the job go down a bit easier.” She grinned. “Tell us more.”

“I can get you 80 caps right now and some more after we take care of Cooke. All you have to do is come with me when I go and talk to him. Once he sees you, he’ll back down.”

“In that case, you don’t need to come. We can take care of the him just fine.”

Damn right. Grant and her worked damn well together, they didn’t need this pathetic wimp to tag along and mess things up. 

“You’re probably right. I’m so angry at Cooke, I might lose control. Just make sure he gets the message okay?” 

“Oh he’ll get the message alright.” Cait said with a devilish grin, dragging Grant away by the arm. “So what are you thinking McKay? Pull a gun on him, break a couple bones, what’s the plan?”

“Jesus, let’s keep him in one piece okay? We’ll see what happens.”

The Colonial Taphouse was now completely empty, save for Cooke, who was diligently wiping down the bar counter. If only he knew the hell that was about to be released onto him. Nobody, and I mean nobody, was ever prepared for the sharp tongued fury of Cait and Grant.

“Henry, we need to talk.” 

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah there’s a fuckin’ problem, the problem is you shaggin’ Paul Pembroke’s wife. You’re gonna leave her alone, startin’ now.” 

Ah, good ole Cait, always one for subtlety. 

“Who I sleep with is none of your goddamn business and who do you think you are, walking into *my* bar and telling me what to do?”

“I’m sorry.” Grant relented. “We got off on the wrong foot, let us reintroduce ourselves.”

Now, what the hell was he doing? She got Cooke exactly where she wanted him and now he was going all soft on him? Goddamn him and his bleeding heart.

He whipped his pistol out of his holster and aimed it directly at Cooke’s head, right between the eyes. 

“Stop fucking around with Darcy.” He growled. “Or else.”

“Now that is a very bad idea. You don’t want to pull a gun on me unless you intend to use it.” 

She glanced over at Grant, his eyes narrowed and full of anger, upper lip turned up in a scowl. See, that was the one thing about him that she loved. He took no shit and anyone that tried to fuck with him would get it. Henry Cooke was no exception. 

“Oh yeah? I’m counting to three. One, two, th-“

“Hold up, hold up, hold up! Don’t get crazy on me! We can talk this out.”

“You better make me a good fucking deal, or there’ll be brains on that freshly cleaned bar of yours.”

He had come in to negotiate, to make nice and to gently persuade him to leave Darcy alone. He assumed the three of them could make like civilized people and talk it out, but not a single goddamn person would get away with disrespecting him like that. If Cooke wanted to be a smug smartass, he’d make him regret it.

“Look. Tell Paul it’s over. I swear. I won’t even let her in my bar anymore. Is that good enough for you?”

“Aw cmon,” He scoffed, “I ask you to make me a good fucking deal and you gave me a promise to behave? Really? That’s your offer? Try again.”

“Okay okay. I have an idea. Something I’ve been thinking about for a while already. Here’s the deal. I have some other businesses on the side. One of them is helping Nelson Latimer spend his dad’s money to make himself feel like a gangster. Me and Nelson are supposed to be meeting some gentlemen from Goodneighbor to exchange Nelson’s cash for their chems.” Henry explained. “My plan is simple - we take the money and the chems. Trust me, we can do this, no problem. The meeting’s always in the same place, they always bring the same number of guys. They’ll never know what hit them. 

“We? No, you don’t get it Cooke, this isn’t some partnership. Cait and I are gonna be taking those chems and caps, and you’ll get to live another day. I’d call that a fair trade.”

Make that two things she loved about him.

“Fine, you bastards. The deal is taking place just outside Back Street Apparel. Now get out of my bar, I don’t wanna look at you two.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Grant said with a new light in his eyes, mouth upturned into a coy smile. “Now c’mon, let’s go steal some chems.”

Three things.


	7. Technically 241

Cait shoved the needle into her arm, letting out a euphoric sigh of release once she did. She had gone half a day without a dose and was beginning to get the withdrawals. There was no way in hell she was going to make it through the ambush if she didn’t shoot up now. She knew she needed to quit and that taking all these chems had fucked her up in irreversible ways, but no matter how hard she tried to stop, she was always back to taking it less than a day later. Grant didn’t know that she even had an addiction, or at least she _thought_ he didn’t. Maybe he’d eventually get suspicious of all these “bathroom breaks” but as of right now, she was in the clear.

_BANG BANG BANG_

“C’mon Cait!” He urged. “You’re like 5’6, how much piss can your body hold?” 

“Yeah yeah, shut up, I’ll be out in a minute.”

She tossed her syringe onto the ground and kicked it away before heading out to meet her partner in crime.

“You didn’t flush?” He asked, face twisted in disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nobody flushed in the Combat Zone.”

“Ah. So that would explain the smell.” 

“Nah, that’s just raiders pukin’ up their Salisbury Steak after I’ve kicked their arse.”

He smiled at that, even though it wasn’t particularly funny or anything. Hearing stuff about her past was always a joy, even if it was just little jokes about living in the Combat Zone. He had read her slave contract, knew a good part of her life story, but still felt like he didn’t really _know_ his traveling partner. They were friends now, or at least, he thought they were. They laughed and argued like they had known each other for years but neither of them had been very interested in talking about their past. Well, with the exception of that night on the roof. 

But maybe he could change that. 

“Hey I uh, I realized, I never got around to telling you about how the whole 200 year old miracle thing Piper was talking about.”

“Yeah, what the hell was that? You some pre-war ghoul or somethin’? You don’t look over 32.”

“Okay well, I’m 30.” He confirmed. “But *technically*, I’m 241 years old.”

Cait stopped dead in her tracks, eyes squinted in disbelief and confusion. 241? 241 years old? How the actual hell is that possible?

“Wha-“

He held up a hand, waving aside her confusion. It was hard explaining his age to every single curious citizen in Diamond City, hell, it was pretty damn hard explaining it to himself. All of it seemed like a fever dream, it really did. But maybe she could make some sense of this.

“In 2077, right before the bombs fell, me and my family got invited to a Vault, Vault 111. And I was stupid enough to think that they had good intentions, that they wanted to protect us. When we got there, they put us in these cryo chambers and had us frozen. They told us it was to depressurize us or something, I can’t remember. Anyway, a couple hundred years later, I woke up and...and everyone else in the vault was dead. Including my wife and son. I-I don’t know why I was left alive, but I was. So...yeah, I’m over 200 years old.”

Cait repeated everything he said, over and over again in her head, trying to make sense of it all. He...was in a vault? And he had a wife and son...who were killed. And he’s 241 years old? She had so many questions, so things she wanted to know, but in that moment she only asked him one thing:

“What was life like before all this?”

God. Where to start? Life before the war was complicated to say the least. There was a period of peace, of pure bliss. Things that were previously reserved to the realms of science fictions became real life tangible things. The American people were more united than ever, living in sheer luxury and finally enjoying the American Dream they fought so hard to get. But then came the awakening; the shortage of resources, the power struggles between virtually every nation, the fear that everything they once had would be ripped from them. But that side of prewar life wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t what everyone wanted to hear when they asked him about it. Those sentiments of fear and scarcity weren’t new to them, nobody wanted to hear that part. So he stopped telling it. 

“Nothing like things now. Everyone had more stuff than they’d ever need and we lived in the lap of luxury. Life wasn’t about survival, it was about being happy and living out the American dream. Plus, the food was way better.” 

Happiness over survival? She couldn’t even begin to fathom any of that. Maybe things would be different from her if she was alive back then. Maybe her parents would see her as more than just a pocketful of caps. Maybe she wouldn’t be fucked up in so many ways. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Ever had pizza? Fucking heaven.” He moaned, practically salivating over the thought of it. “I’ll have to make it for you one day.”

Thoughts of other prewar foods danced around in his head as they continued to make their way to Back Street Apparel. Coffee, hot dogs, some good ole fashioned pancakes drenched in an unhealthy amount of syrup. God he was sick of eating mystery animal meat every night. As soon as he could find a vendor that could get him the ingredients, he was firing up the pizza oven, err, the stove.

Anyway, they had more important things to attend to right now, namely the giant chem deal they were about to ambush.

“There they are.” He whispered, crouching behind a flipped over semi truck, the truck bed shielding their arrival. 

Trish, Nelson and three other ghoul triggermen stood guard in front of 6 crates of chems, all gathered a circle, like it was a damn AA meeting. 

Ripe for the picking.

Grant looked over at his fiery companion, her eyes waiting for instruction. “Guns blazing?”  
  
“Hit ‘em hard, and leave ‘em reelin’.” She agreed. “Let’s do it.”

He squeezed the trigger at will, spraying the group, the crates and every inch of city in a three foot radius with .45 bullets. Sure it wasn’t very accurate but his gun was named Spray N’ Pray for a reason. Besides, it wasn’t his job to kill them. He crippled them within an inch of their life and Cait finished them off with her swatter. They made for one of deadly duo didn’t they?

She raised her leg up and brought the bat back, eyes wide with excitement. There was nothing like hearing the wood connect with a skull. With a hard *clunk*, the triggermen fell to concrete one by one, leaving a helluva bloody mess. Not like anyone would be around to clean it up anyway. 

She had her bat suspended in the air, about to finish off the last of this pathetic crew when the ghoul cried out.

“You don’t have to kill me! I won’t talk, I swear! 

Putting her bat down, she glanced over at Grant, patiently waiting to see how’d he deal with this, this time. 

“Loose lips sink ships, I can’t risk leaving any witnesses.”

“No! I’ll tell Marowski it was Gunners, okay? You can trust me! And...and I’ll give up Marowski’s chem lab! This, this here is nothing compared to what he’s got stashed there!”

Chem lab? She sure liked the sound of that.

“Keep talkin’.”

“Where do you think these lab comes from? We’ve got a lab right here in the Commonwealth. But you’ll never find it on your own, not without my help. I’ll tell you everything you need to know if you promise let me go.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “You got a deal.”

“The lab is in the old Four Leaf Fishpacking Plant, on the waterfront in South Boston. The place is overrun with feral ghouls but they’re just a front, you see? The real security is a system of tripwires that have to be triggered in exactly the right order to open the door to the lab. There’s a terminal that will bypass the tripwires and open the door to the lab. And I have the password.”

“And you’re gonna give it to me.”

“If you let me walk. Which you will. Right?”

“Mhm.”

“Well...alright.” She said reluctantly. “The password is Applejack. Now you’ve got everything. And I’m completely screwed forever. I hope you can live with that!”

She took off like a runner at a gun, furiously trying to separate herself from them. 

“You’re really gonna let her go?” Cait sighed, watching as she began to slip out of sight.

She was hoping for a little more blood and a little more action, but there Grant went with his stupid bleeding heart again.

“I told you, loose lips sink ships. I just wanted some long distance target practice.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he turned towards the running ghoul, tracking the movement with his scope. He squeezed the trigger, the gun firing with a dull thud from the silencer, recoil slamming the stock back into his chest.

Click, boom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry these chapters are so quest focused, but I promise they're important to the coming chapters. Things really start heating up after this and I think you'll really like the next two chapters coming next week. See you next Wednesday!


	8. Dust Inhalation!

“Please don’t tell me you actually believe in this witch shite.”

“Well I’m not crazy but-“

“Oh God.” She muttered under her breath. “You’re fuckin’ crazy aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying that I came from a time before giant roaches and green mutants were a thing. I can’t rule out anything anymore. Doesn’t mean I’ll think we’ll find a ghost here or something.”

“Well somethin’ about this place isn’t right.” She muttered, glancing up at the giant stone building in front of her. “I’m gonna be jumpin’ at the goddamn shadows next.” 

Grant yanked furiously at door knob, pulling down on it as if he was trying to snap the whole damn door. 

“You think you can open this?” He asked, shooting a look in her direction.

“Are ya fuckin’ daft? This lock is opened somewhere else. I can’t do anythin’ with it.” 

“Alright then, time for Plan B: break into this shithole a different way.” 

They made their way around the adjacent fence into the garden, the giant Sycamore trees casting an eerie shadow over the two. Shivers rippled through his spine as he entered the place, chilling him to the bone. 

If he was scared by the big trees you can only imagine the look on his face when he came across the a half eaten corpse.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered, standing over the bloodied remains.

“That’s no gun wound. Somethin’ else did ta to them.”

“Well.” Grant gulped. “I guess it’s our job to figure out what it was.”

Down the hatch they went.

===

The wooden floorboards above them belched and moaned as if they would give out at any moment. A new layer of dust fell like snow from the ceiling every time something on the second floor moved, eventually settling on their clothes and armor. That and the complete darkness made it impossible for them to see their own hands in front of their face, much less whatever was making the noise. 

“Don’t you have a light on that gizmo strapped to your wrist?”

“Oh, wait yeah, I do!”

Grant flicked his left wrist up, flipping through the channels rapidly.

“No, not radio, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, oh there we go!” 

A bright green glow emanated from the Pip Boy, illuminating all the dust floating in the air. Breathing all this stuff in had to be slowly killing them. Boy wouldn’t that be a fun way to go? Dust inhalation! Exciting!

Cait slowly closed her eyes, trying to trudge forward and keep up with him. Every attempt she made to push forward was met with heavy resistance from her body. She walked like her limbs didn’t really belong to her and each step was a negotiation rather than an order. She needed a dose, right fucking now. There was no way she’d be able to fight effectively when she was strung out like this. She glanced over at Grant, who was six feet ahead of her and had his full attention turned towards whatever the fuck was upstairs. 

She could probably sneak a dose in right now, if she was careful. 

Letting herself fall back, she watched as he turned the corner. As soon as he did, she dropped to her knees, throwing her bag off her back and digging through the dozens of used syringes she had hidden in there. She grabbed a string and hastily tied it around her arm, yanking it tighter with her teeth. 

Her addiction had gotten so much worse ever since they got ahold of those chems. Six giant crates of every chem imaginable lying around in his house, full of free Psycho. How was she not supposed to take advantage of that? She went crazy once the crates got delivered, taking two doses a day, constantly high out of her mind. The supply had begun to dwindle as the weeks went by, and she didn’t know what the hell she’d do with herself once it ran out.

“C’mon.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “C’mon.”

“Cait? Cait, where the hell are you?”

Fucking hell. She couldn’t let him see any of this. She had put too effort into hiding her little chem addiction for him to find out now. All those late nights stealing Psycho from his chem stash couldn’t be for nothing. She ripped the string off her arm and shoved it into her bag, hastily trying to close it before he could see what was inside.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking straight at her, her knees on the ground and her hands on the clasps of her pack. “Oh, don’t tell me you were cut-“

“I wasn’t cutting!” She yelled, rather defensively.

Grant did his best to ignore the growls coming from the floor above them and looked straight into her sea green eyes, trying to get a read on her. 

“Let me see your arm.”

“Fuck off. You’re not touchin’ me.” She cried out, stepping away from him. 

“I’m not going to touch you, just show me your arm.

She wasn’t cutting before and had been doing it less and less ever since he caught her doing it. It would have been so easy for her to prove her innocence and show him the week old scars but why the hell did she need to do that in the first place? She wasn’t a goddamn criminal, she didn’t do anything wrong. He needed to mind his own goddamn business. 

“No.” Cait repeated defiantly.

“Look, I’m just worried about you alright? If you feel like cutting, come talk to me first. I don’t want you doing it behind my back.”

The countless nights on the roof together, all the conversations where he opened up his heart to her, he just hoped he it was enough to show her that he really did care and that he really did want her to be happy. The look in her eyes told him it wasn’t.

“You’re not me goddamn parent. I’m not dealin’ with this right now, let’s just get this thing over with.”

“Cait. I mean it.” He said soberly, trying to get her to stop and come back, to just talk to him.

She rolled her eyes and headed upstairs, seemingly indifferent to what he had just said. But deep down, she wasn’t. His words bounced around in her mind as she stepped over butchered gunner corpses and splintered wood. Maybe she had been too hard on him. He really did seem like he cared. He had been doing it far too long for it to just be an act. Was she fucking things up? Was she ruining her relationship with the only person to ever truly care about h- 

Holy fucking shit!

She fought like hell to get around that wall, an impressive feat considering the fact that her legs felt as soft as InstaMash right now. She gulped down air like it would disappear at any moment, chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so fuckin’ tired right now?

She wiped the sweat off her forehead and peeked out from behind the wall, trying to steady her hands enough to take a solid shot at the beast. The sound of her shot rang out, hitting something non deathclaw. She was usually a deadeye, but that sounded as if it had missed by yards. Looking out, she reloaded to get another shot in, but the giant scaled monster was nowhere to be seen.

“Where the hel-“

Before she knew it, her feet were dangling helplessly in the air, the deathclaw with a razor tight grip on her. She squirmed, trying to escape its talons, desperately looking around the room for Grant once she realized escape was futile. Never before had she depended on another person for her survival but she needed him more than ever. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement, something humanoid. Was it him? 

But before she got a chance to look closer, she was slammed into the ground, her body giving out on her as everything began to fade to black. 


	9. Kindness, Patience, and a Little Bit of Soup

“It’s okay.” He whispered soothingly, running his hand up and down her back. “You’re gonna be okay, just a little longer and the soup will be done.”

Normally she’d never let anyone touch her like that but his hand was so warm and seemed to be the only thing to stop the never-ending chills. No matter how many blankets she had draped on top of her, she was always fucking freezing. 

Cait had spent the last three weeks in bed, out with a grade 3 concussion and a broken leg, or whatever Doctor Sun was yabberin’ about. It was the most helpless time in her life. She couldn’t steal or kill her way out of this one. She knew that most people in the Commonwealth would give anything to do nothing but lie in bed for a month and get spoon-fed by Grant McKay but for her it was hell. 

Not that she didn’t appreciate him taking care of her. It must be hell for him too, going from bashing raider heads in to taking care of a stupid junkie cage fighter like her. Why he spent all his hours feeding, talking and comforting her was still a mystery. He was always so nice to her, even though she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He should have ditched her a long time ago. 

“You’re gonna be okay. I’m here. It’s gonna work out just fine.”

He was there. Always. 

He always saw the best in her even at her lowest. What could he possibly want from someone as screwed up as her? All this kindness, all this patience, it couldn’t possibly be free. Everyone else had wanted something, why didn’t he? 

Was it possible that someone like him could care about someone like her? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tides are turning, and things are about to get good. Stay tuned, we've got Benign Intervention on the horizon. See you next Wednesday!


	10. Teacher of the Year

“Are you serious?” She moaned, her back pressed against the wooden bed frame. “How the hell am I supposed to get around on that thing?”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad. Sturges did his best. I tried convincing Elder Maxson to let you take the vertibird everywhere but he wouldn’t budge. So just use the damn crutches will you?”

She took the crutches into her hands, running her hands over the smooth metal. Sturges did a damn good job on it. But still, she wasn’t fond of hobbling around like a goddamn idiot. 

“How the hell do you even use these things?” 

“Alright c’mon.” Grant murmured, taking the crutches from her. “Grab my neck.”

“Well now you’re just askin’ to get strangled.”

As stupid as she thought it was, she obliged, wrapping her hands around his neck. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re hairier than Dogmeat’s arse. Why dontcha shave?”

“I uh, I don’t really know how.” He admitted, tucking the crutches under her armpit. “My wife used to do it for me. She did it so well that I really never bothered learning.”

He took her hands and placed them on the handgrip, pressing down on her fingers so they curled around it.

“Alright.” He said, letting go of his grip on her. “Start walking.” 

“Easier said than done, dontcha think?” 

“I’ll help you if you quit moping like a baby.” 

“Yeah? Call me a baby again and I’ll cripple you too.” She teased, half-jokingly. “Now are you gonna help me or what?”

“Okay.” He began. “So bring your crutches forward, and begin your step like you’re walking with your broken leg, but shift your weight to the crutch instead and finish with your good foot. Just keep doing that and you’ll be fine. Now I’m going to Dugout to grab a beer, but you have fun with that!”

But before he could even get one foot out the door, she called out to him, her booming voice scaring him back into submission.

“Grant Duncan McKay, you get your fuckin’ arse back here!” 

“I really shouldn’t have told you my middle name.” He admitted defeatedly, letting go of the doorknob. 

“You’re gonna stay here and teach me how to use these damn things,” she demanded, “or I’ll shove em’ up your arse.” 

“Jeez alright alright.” He sighed, walking behind her and grabbing her waist. “Why don’t you try walking?”

She stared at the space ahead of her, a meager ten feet or so. But for some reason, it seemed impossible to close. Standing on one shaky foot, she tried her best to focus, to just do whatever Grant told her to do before but _something_ was stopping her. She was frozen in place, pulse-pounding in her temple. 

“Annnny day now Cait.” 

“Just give me a second, will ya?” 

“I’ve given you 480.” 

“Look, this isn’t easy for me alright?” She relented. “Just bear with me.” 

“I know.” He eased up. “I know it's hard. Just take your time. I’ve got you.” 

Of course he loved poking fun at her sometimes, that was just the nature of their relationship. But whenever she opened up like that, he couldn’t help but be supportive. 

She held the handgrips with an iron grip, shaking like “a damn methhead” as he loved to say. This wasn’t that goddamn hard, walking 10 feet was nothing compared to fighting in the Combat Zone or stabbing shamblers, but for some reason, this seemed like an impossible task. She was nearly 30, but here she was being taught to walk like a fuckin’ baby. 

“Don’t overthink this. Just bring your crutches forward. Trust me, it's in my best interest to make sure you don’t get hurt again.”

Oh Grant, always the gentlest bloke eh? But he was right, she was overthinking this whole thing, and thinking too much always ended up fucking her over. She just needed to get it over with. 

Swinging her crutches, she threw herself forward, landing on her good foot and taking a second to rebalance herself. For some reason, she instinctively turned back to look at Grant, to see what he thought. 

He couldn’t explain it but there was this insurmountable amount of pride welling up in his chest, so great that it eventually spread onto his face, softening his eyes and widening his smile. But even though he was proud of her, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. They were close and always had each other backs, but being so openly nice like that? It was weird for the both of them. 

“See what happens when you have a great teacher like me instructing you?” He said with a coy smile. “As soon as you learn to take more than one step, watch out Commonwealth!”

Well, she wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was a great teacher. His teaching was little more than him just rattling off instructions like a grocery list, but that wasn’t the point. Yeah, he was a pretty bad instructor but he was there for her, literally holding her up when she needed his help. Which was good, because she needed it more than ever. She’d been putting this off long enough and couldn’t wait any longer.

“Alright enough of this bullshit. I need you to help me. Please.” 

“If you’re asking me to teach you how to turn on those things, I’m not helping, I think it’d be way funn...” He stopped talking when he saw the grim expression on her face. 

“Uh, sure.” He corrected. “Anything you need Cait.”

“I was hopin’ you’d say that. We’re friends now, which means I can trust ya with anythin’. I’m also hopin’ it means you’ve got me back ’cause I need it now more than ever. I’m... I’m sick... and I don’t think I can hide it from ya anymore.” 

Her voice was riddled with fear, with panic, something he’d never heard before. She seemed scared out of her mind and honestly, he was starting to feel the same. His mind raced with possibilities of what her sickness could be: molerat disease, parasites, infection, god he was beginning to go crazy. But when he saw her face twisted with fear, he stopped. Stopped panicking, stopped thinking, just stopped anything that wasn’t related to helping her out right now. She was terrified out of her mind and he couldn’t afford to add to her panic. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“Okay, calm down and take a deep breath. If you’re sick, I want to help you.”

“Believe me, I want your help, but I’m scared.” She elaborated, her voice somehow full of even more panic than before. “I’m scared that you’ll hear the truth and that I’ll lose you as a friend. God, I’m makin’ a hell of a mess of this. I didn’t think it’d be so tough.”

“Hey,” Grant said soothingly, “you’ll never lose me as a friend, no matter what you say.”

“Damn you for bein’ so nice to me.” She exclaimed, taking a deep breath before beginning to tell him more. 

She was about to openly admit her biggest weakness to him, something she’d never dare tell anyone before. Weak people didn’t survive as slaves. Weak people didn’t survive the Combat Zone. But she trusted him enough to confide in him, despite how terrified she was that it would all fall apart. What if she never got better? What if she lost him? What if she spent the rest of her life, the same way she started it, a stupid junkie who was all alone? That was the kind of crap that started her mind wanderin’ and drove her to drink. But maybe she didn’t have to do that anymore. 

“Ever since I left home, I've been usin’ Psycho. I dunno why I’m still takin’ that crap, but I can’t stop, and believe me, I’ve tried. I can’t even go a day without it anymore and I’m fuckin’ sick and tired of it. I’ve even been doin’ it behind your back, sneakin’ doses when I think you aren’t lookin’, stealin’ chems from the chem crates. Worst of all, it’s been makin’ me sick. I’ve been spittin’ blood and I don’t feel right inside. I need to get this shite out of me system before I wind up dead.”

Grant stared at her in wide-eyed shock, his mind trying to soak in all the information he just received. Chem addiction? Cait had always been a sneaky type and he suspected that she was doing _something_ behind his back but he hadn’t thought that she was dosing up, much less that it was that bad. He did notice his Psycho supply had begun to dwindle into nothing, but there were over 80 doses in there. It was nearly impossible for someone to consume so much without dying. But from the way she phrased it, it did seem like she was halfway to death’s doorstep. Spitting blood? She must have been sick as hell at this point. 

“Tell me how we can clean you up.”

“There might be a way, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

“Nothing in the Commonwealth is easy.” He reminded her. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.” 

“Well, there’s supposed to be a vault somewhere out here, a place called Vault 95. I’ve heard that Vault-Tec used it for some kinda social experiment; stuck a bunch of junkies inside to poke and prod. Well, they supposedly had some special method to clean up those blokes in there, some kind of a machine or somethin’. If we could get inside, maybe that machine could help me.”

“Then we’ll do it. We’ll get you there.”

“I can’t believe how kind you’re bein’ to me, even when I’m lettin’ you down.” She said in amazement. “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of lowlife junkie. A stupid girl who’s harming herself for no good reason b-“

“I don’t think that Cait. I think you need help. And as soon as you learn to use those damn crutches, we’ll head over to the Vault and get you that help. You’re gonna get better. I promise.”

What did she ever do to deserve someone like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long chapter. Good thing the next one is double the length. 
> 
> Benign Intervention is coming next week and nothing will be the same after. Whether that's a good or bad thing is anyone's guess (except mine, I know what happens.) Guess you'll just have to tune in next week and see what kind of trouble Grant and Cait get up to. See you next Wednesday!


	11. Benign Intervention

Grant twirled the pen in his hand and relooked at the map as if it had changed in the past thirty seconds. Okay so maybe he was a little nervous, but could you blame him? Cait was still on crutches and even though she had learned to get around on them, she was still heavily limited. She couldn’t hold a weapon, much less fight off any enemies they came across, so it was up to him to defend the two. He knew he was a capable fighter but losing her was a huge blow, no swatter support meant that he had to make sure he wasn’t wasted and could shoot straight. 

The Brotherhood scribes had told him that getting to Vault 95 was six hours of walking, but considering the fact that it took Cait five minutes to get from the living room to the bathroom, he was planning on eight. Over the past week, he had driven himself crazy obsessing over every little detail but he knew damn well that the two of them never did anything according to plan and somehow, this would all go to hell. 

He tipped his head back and finished the rest of his Nuka-Cola, a poor substitute for his usual morning beer. Leaning back in his lawn chair, he stared up at the orange-pink sky, the sun beginning to bloom on the horizon. Normally he’d stay and watch it rise but there were more pressing matters to attend to right now.

It was time to cure her addiction.

===

Cait hobbled forward, each step she took, a struggle. She was deadweight right now, she knew that damn well. Couldn’t walk, couldn’t fight, couldn’t fucking quit, couldn’t do a single damn thing right. But Grant was still here. She kept fucking up, kept letting him down and he was still here, risking his goddamn life just to help her out. She just wished she could understand why. 

“Who the hell decided to put this Vault in the corner of the Commonwealth?” 

“Yeah, I’ll say.” She scoffed. “You really couldn’t get your Brotherhood buddies to fly us out here?” 

“I tried, but Maxson’s got a stick up his ass or something. Told me that vertibirds weren’t supposed to be used for ‘personal use, even if you’re a sentinel’ or whatever.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth. 

Okay, it was a complete lie. 

He had never asked Elder Maxson, though he was sure that if he had, he’d happily let the two take one of the Brotherhoods’s vertibirds for a day. It’d sure make the journey a whole lot easier, turning the 8 hour walk into a 30 minute flight. So why didn’t he ask? 

Well, to be honest, he kinda wanted to talk to her. You’d think that after being stuck at home with Cait for an entire month, he’d be sick as hell of her, but there was something different there when they talked, something indescribable. They just...got each other, you know? There was some sort of connection between the two, like they lived on the same wavelength. He’d never tell her about that of course, he knew she didn’t feel the same way as him and he really wouldn’t be able to handle the shit she’d give him for making her walk so far on those damn crutches. 

He hoped Elder Maxson wouldn’t mind being the subject of his little white lie.

As far as Cait was concerned, whoever invented crutches should be shot on sight. The infernal sticks clunked along the hard baked earth, and with each clunk they jolted her in the armpit. The cushioning under the arm was supposed to be soft and comfortable, but no matter how she adjusted it or folded it, it was still like being repeatedly poked with a hard stick. After only a quarter of the way to the Vault she was sore and irritable. 

And Grant could tell.

Her furrowed eyebrows and puckered lips told him she was a volcano on the verge of eruption and that he needed to calm her down before she blew up and chucked her crutches into a river or something.

“Why don’t we take a break?” He suggested. “You seem like you could use one.”

“I’m fine. We just need to be gettin’ on with it.”

“A five minute break won’t hurt, we-"

“I said I’m fine Grant! Will you just leave it be?”

Ugh, why’d he have to look at her like that? Damn him and his stupid cocked eyebrow for making her feel bad. Every time she lost her temper or snapped at him or something, he would always look at her with that same stupid face, the one that said “are you sure about that?”. Well it always fucking worked and she couldn’t figure out why his stupid, stupid face calmed her down so much. 

“Fine. Just five minutes. We need to keep movin’.” 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, all this crutch walking were making her armpits were sore as hell and if they went on any longer, she was sure they’d start bleeding. She didn’t know which was worse, that or letting Grant be right. 

Cait practically threw her crutches down once they stopped, immediately collapsing against an old building. 

“Hey, be careful.” He warned, taking a seat next to her. “I can’t afford for you to break another leg.” 

“I’ll be fine. Just need a quick breather and I’ll be ready to go.”

“What? So you could slam more of that junk into your arm?” He said, doing his best Tommy Lonegan impression. 

“Jesus,” she moaned, throwing her head back, “don’t remind me of that bastard.”

“You know, if he could see you right now, he’d be damn proud of you.”

Cait scoffed, turning her head away. Yeah right. Not a single damn person in her life had ever been proud of her and especially not Tommy. What was there to be proud of? She was a stupid junkie idiot who fucked up every single part of her life over and over. She wasn’t proud of herself, so how the hell could anyone else be?

“Yeah, right. You’re real funny McKay.” 

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “It's not easy trying to quit something, especially something you’ve been doing for 8 years. If he knew you were trying to quit, he’d be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

It felt weird saying that, really weird, but he meant it. Seeing her face her addiction head on like this was inspiring. It encouraged him to be better in his own life. Maybe one day he’d finally give up those nightly smoke breaks. 

Telling her what her efforts meant to him was worth pushing aside the weird barrier that told him they couldn’t be too nice to each other. 

“Don’t see why.” She scoffed. “You’re the one doin’ all the work.” 

“Well not really. I’m getting you there but you’re the one choosing to quit. I didn’t do that for you, you did. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy choice either. I mean, look at Sheffield, he’s been begging for a Nuka Cola for years now.”

She tried understand what he was telling her but any attempt to take his words to heart was met with sharp defiance from her brain. There was no way Grant, the kindest person she ever knew in her whole life was proud of her. He was a good guy. She didn’t agree with everything he did, but he looked out for other people, especially her. He was a hero by all definition of the word, he saved the entire fucking Commonwealth for Gods sake, but _he_ was proud of _her_? Her of all people? She wanted to press, to keep asking him why, but this whole niceness thing was making her feel a weird way, some way she couldn’t explain. It was freaking the fuck out of her. 

“Can’t believe you’re comparing me to the likes of him. Let’s just get goin’ then.”

Throughout the rest of the six hour walk, Grant’s insistence of frequent breaks and his stupid would you rather questions were the only things keeping her sane. Yeah she acted like she hated them, but he just seemed so goddamn happy when she played along and look, he had one hell of a cute smile. Not that she would ever say that out loud. She didn’t even really like thinking about it. 

She was in the middle of answering “would you rather lick a live mole rat or Mayor McDonaugh’s mustache” when they stumbled upon a giant bridge with a hole in it.

“Well there it is. Vault 95. Let’s head inside and find the Clean Room, that’s where we can get this crap out of me body.”

“Easier said than done.” He gulped, looking out at the number of enemies blocking their way. “Just hold on a second, I need to figure out a plan.”

“Plan? Weren’t you all “fuck a plan” a couple months ago?”

She remembered all the times she fought by his side, all the times he fought freely, bashing in the heads of anything and everything that moved. 

“Well I’m fighting solo this time. I’ve got no fighting partner, I’m gonna need to think this one out.” 

And so he thought. The two sat behind a rock as he racked his brain, trying to figure out how to get past the two assualtrons and the wealth of gunner guards. Okay maybe he could snipe them, or throw a grenade, or call in the Brotherhood, or... God who was he kidding? No matter what the first move was, it was bound to end up as a full on firefight. No point in delaying the obvious.

“Cait.” He muttered through gritted teeth. “No matter what, stay behind this rock okay? Don’t peek your head up, don’t try to play hero, I’ll take care of this.” 

“What? Where the hell are y-“

Grant’s sudden gunshots drowned the rest of her sentence. 

He ran out from behind the rock, immediately charging the gunner group. Because of course he did. 

She pressed her back against the rock, shoving her fingers into her ears in a futile attempt to block out some of the deafening noise. At first she stayed down and obeyed his command but as time went on curiosity began to creep in and she couldn’t help but peek her head up. What kind of trouble he was getting himself into?

Oh he was getting himself into a whole lot of fucking trouble alright. He stared straight into the laser eyes of a fuming assaultatron as he dodged gunner grenades, jumping and weaving through the boulders that littered the lot. 

“Kilo, India, Lima, Lima!”

“Oh yeah?” He yelled back, struggling to reload his gun. “Foxtrot, Uniform, Charlie, Kilo, Yankee, Oscar, Uniform!”

Maybe he had underestimated how hard to take them all out. If he had Cait’s help, they’d all be lying dead on the ground by now, no doubt. But it was just him against the masses, scratching and clawing for a fighting chance. It couldn’t get any worse, he thought, it couldn’t _possibly_ get any worse. Two charging assaulatrons and at least a dozen gunners. This had to be one of the toughest adversaries he had taken on alone. But it only got worse when they all turned to attention to something else.

Cait.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Her entire body was leaned up against the rock, free of her crutches, as she sniped targets from above. This couldn’t be good for her leg. Why couldn't she just follow his directions? As much as he wanted to scold her right now, there was no time, they had robots to kill. With their attention turned towards her, he quickly fired at the legs, watching as the bots slowly fell to the ground, turning into nothing more than discarded piles of metal. 

Then came the Gunners. 

The Gunners were heads above the raiders, better equipped, better trained and were not to be taken lightly. They had the same combat training as most Brotherhood soldiers and wouldn’t hesitate to take out anyone and everyone. The fact that MacCready served with them was a testament to how lethal they were.

They were smart, he had to give them that. Three gunners up on the roof to snipe him, and half a dozen of them on the ground to finish him off. But lucky for him and unlucky for them, he had a secret weapon. Crippled Cait!

She was no deadeye, but her shot was accurate enough to be a factor as they worked to thin out the crowd. She missed charging into battle and knocking some skulls in, but there was nothing like a smokin’ gun and a bunch of dead gunners. A job well done.

“Jesus.” Grant panted, hands on his knees. “Do you not know what ‘don’t try to play hero’ means?”

“Do you not know what ‘I’ll take care of this’ means?”

He opened his mouth, about to chastise her for putting her life at risk like that, but one look at her teasing smile and he suddenly lost the will to scold. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t let it go to your head. Grab your crutches, let’s get going.”

As they walked around the Vault, there was something about it that threw him off, a stillness in the air that sucked something out of him. He had been in Vaults before, hell, he was stuck in one for 200 years. But this one? Something in this one just felt _wrong_. The Vault suit wearing skeletons sat around in a circle combined with the random chems strewn around the Vault just didn’t sit right with him. 

But he did his best to push that aside, it wasn’t about him, it was about curing Cait. Now it was hard to shake that feeling off as they searched the Vault but once they did find the Clean Room, it was impossible to focus on anything but her. 

“This must be it. The Clean Room.” 

It wasn’t much, just a leather chair with a couple of syringes and straps on it. It was hard to think that that chair would change her whole goddamn life. But the longer she stared at it, the harder the second thoughts pounded in her head. 

“The answer to me problems is sittin’ in that room, but I dunno if I should go through with it.”

“If you don’t go in there, you’ll die.”

“I know. I know. But what if the Psycho’s the only thing keepin’ me together? What if this opens me eyes and I don’t like what I see?” She cried, voice twisted in pain and panic. “There were reasons I dulled the pain. Things I didn’t want to face. Things I was tryin’ to forget. I’d rather be spittin’ blood than relivin’ the past.”

“And I’d rather you go in there than have to dig your grave in a couple months!” 

God he sounded angry. Really fucking angry. He had every right to be, he had risked his goddamn life to get her here, but that frustration in his voice scared the crap out of her. She was scared shitless about this, terrified that she’d lose him once he found out who she really was. Everyone else left. Everyone else hurt her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being like everyone else. He was the first real friend she ever had, the only person who she trusted. She couldn’t lose that. She couldn’t lose him.

He felt the same way.

“Cait, I can’t lose you. I can’t, alright? Seeing you so sick... it terrifies me.”

Terrified wasn’t even the word. Losing her was his worst fear, the one thing that kept him tossing and turning late at night. He felt things for her that he hadn’t felt since Nora and things he thought he’d never feel again. The thought of losing her before he got the chance to tell her how much he cared was unbearable.

“I need you here with me.” He continued. “I need you more than you know. I know you’re scared of reliving the past but I promise you, we’ll face that pain together.”

She couldn’t believe it. After everything he’d done for her, after all the troubles he went through on her behalf, he kept offering to do more. 

“You..you’d really miss me, wouldn’t you?” She said, almost in disbelief. 

“More than anything.” 

“Well who am I to let you down? I’m gonna sit in the chair. Whenever you’re ready, you go ahead and throw the switch.” 

She pressed herself into the leather chair, glancing over at all the needles and straps. It looked more like a torture device than anything really, her stomach turning over and over the more she looked at it. The urge to pack it in once and for all grew the longer she sat in it, eventually becoming so great that she nearly stood up and walked away. But as she peered through the window at Grant, she remembered that no matter what she was about to go through, he’d be there for her. She didn’t have to suffer alone any more. 

He pressed down on the enter key, beginning the toxin purge. The straps on the armrests tightened its grip until she couldn’t move, and two giant needles began to whir in and out of her neck. God, then the scream. It came from deep within, it wasn’t one of those little screams someone did when they were frightened, no, this was blood-curdling. She screamed with her whole body; mouth open, head tilted back, her face ghostly white. It was unbearable to watch, he had to stop it, he had to. He couldn’t let her suffer like this. Grant smashed the keyboard over and over, desperately trying to cancel the purge. 

[*Error* Unavailable] 

[*Error* Unavailable] 

[*Error* Unavailable] 

[*Error* Unavailable] 

No. No. No. 

Her screams turned into moans of agony, shudders that chilled him to the core. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back, trying so desperately not to look weak. But her emerald green eyes revealed a different truth. Seeing her in pain like this killed him inside, made his fucking heart hurt. He couldn’t stop it this time, he couldn’t save her from the pain, he was powerless. All he could do is watch as someone he loved more than he loved himself suffered in sheer agony. Just when he thought that he couldn’t stand it anymore, that he would lose his mind, it stopped. All of it.

The doors unlocked, the straps unbuckled and the syringes drew back, leaving his companion slumped in the chair, breathless. He rushed over and knelt down besides her, staring up at her squinted green eyes, waiting for a response. 

“Shit Cait, are you alright?” 

“Strange.” She murmured softly, eyes locked onto the ground. “I feel really strange. Colors, sounds, smells, nothin’ is like I remember it.” 

Everything had changed. The world around her seemed brighter, more lively. It was like she had been living through a hazy filter her whole life, one that stopped her from seeing the world for what it really was. Nothing was the same. 

And when she looked up into the eyes of her best friend, she realized that something about him had changed too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is folks, Benign Intervention. I've worked really hard on it and I'm proud to finally be able to share it with you guys! The long-awaited romance is coming very soon! See you next Wednesday!


	12. Bloatflies

“Ow, son of a bitch!” He cried out, gingerly poking at the new cut on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Cait mocked, leaning up against the door frame. “Big man can’t shave his own face?”

“I told you, my wife always did it for me, I never learned. If you’re going to just stand there and mock me, can you come up with better insults?”

“Okay, quit whining ya big baby. Gimme the razor.” 

She held the razor in one hand and his face with the other. Grant’s heart skipped a beat when she did, her touch like liquid adrenaline injected right into his bloodstream. It was more than butterflies in the stomach, it was sorta like...bloatflies. Gross.

“Okay don’t go crazy,” he warned, “I still want my beard.”

“Mmm, but what if you’re secretly really ugly under all that hair and have been hidin’ it?”

“I’m already ugly Cait, don’t take away the only good thing on my face.” 

That was a lie. Beard or no beard, he was the most handsome guy she ever met. There was a certain “raider” look of all the men she had met before; scruffy, unkept stubble, a malnourished complexion, and ugly rotting teeth. But Grant really took care of himself and you could see it in his appearance. His muscles were toned from working out, teeth pearly white, and his beard usually trimmed neatly around his chin. He looked like all the prewar men she saw in the dirty magazines. 

He marveled at how clean her cuts were, his thick, bunched up hair quickly falling to the bathroom floor. 

“How’d you get so good at shaving? Is it because you have to shave your-“

“Okay, okay,” she interrupted, “that’s not it, ya pervert. I picked it up as a slave. It was one of the things they made me do for them. They hit me if I ever cut them, so I got good at it eventually, ya know?”

His heart dropped when he heard that. It always made him feel good that she felt comfortable enough to tell him personal things like that, it certainly was a huge step up from the closed off Cait who refused to show any sign of weakness around him. But hearing the things she had gone through always depressed him, especially when she was so non-chalet about it.

“I...I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this if-“

“If it’s you Grant, it’s okay.”

Oh, here came the bloatflies. He knew damn well what this was, he had gone through it dozens of times before. It was a...crush. Even saying the word made him uneasy. It sounded so juvenile, like schoolgirls giggling about the cute boys in their class. But the feelings he had for her were than that and he knew it. He had felt the same way about Nora back when he met her in college, when he first fell in love with her. This wasn’t some stupid middle school crush, it was so much more. 

He could never tell her that though, he’d never let his selfish feelings ruin the friendship they had. Yeah she flirted with him from time to time, but Cait flirted with nearly every man with a pulse, it wasn’t cause she liked him. She didn’t feel the same way about him and he wasn’t delusional enough to ever think that. 

So... he guessed he’d just suffer in silence.

Yay.

He’d take what he could get though, the nightly rooftop beers, the hours they spent on the road together. It sort of killed him inside, knowing that that’s all he’d ever have, that he’d never get to love her like he wanted to. But he couldn’t let that ruin the moments he did get with her, like how she currently had his face in her hands and he could feel her hot breath on his skin.

“Alright, I’m all done. Check it out.”

Grant inspected his new face in the mirror, his thick, overgrown beard now reduced to the neatly trimmed one he was accustomed to. 

“Well aren’t I handsome?” He cooed.

She couldn’t help but agree.


	13. Love Thy Goodneighbor

Cait woke up in a cold sweat, feeling like her body had been robbed of its oxygen, gasping desperately for any air she could get into her lungs. Ever since she quit Psycho, the nightmares had gotten worse, so much worse. The occasional vivid nightmare had become the nightly night terror and she was fuckin’ sick of it. Reliving the worst moments of her life every single night was hell and was exactly what she feared would happen when she quit. 

But Grant was there. Just like he promised. She didn’t have to face those horrors alone.

She rubbed the exhaustion out of her eyes and walked into Grant’s room, finding him awake, staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling above him. It was nearly 3 am, he should be asleep by now, but just like the past six days, he was awake. Almost like he was waiting for her.

“You’re later than usual today.” He said calmly, his body lying dead still as she plopped herself down next to him on the rickety bed. “Same nightmare as before?”

Cait sighed, letting the weight of her breath completely leave her chest before she responded.

“Yeah, but worse. It keeps gettin’ worse.” 

Just thinking about reliving that faithful day again sent a shiver down her spine. 

Grant placed his hand on her back and started rubbing it up and down. She could practically feel his calloused hands on her skin and longed for him to keep her hand there, just for a moment longer. Instead, he stopped and gave her shoulder a playful little shove.

“Get some sleep. It’s late.” 

“I can’t, I really fuckin’ can’t.” She muttered. “They’ve been getting so bad ever since I quit. I can’t take it anymore.”

Her voice cracked as she said it and he could tell she was on the verge of tears, or at least, as close to crying as Cait could possibly get. It broke his heart to hear.

Every second she spent clean made all the memories she tried so hard to suppress stronger and clearer until it just became static. Mind numbingly painful static. 

She didn’t see their faces anymore, she didn’t see the blood stained trailer, she just felt the emptiness. The anguish. The never ending pit of emptiness in her heart that made her want to scream out into the void and collapse into herself all at the same time. 

God she needed a dose right now. She wanted Psycho, she wanted the memories to go away, she wanted this all to stop. But she wasn’t allowed to. She was supposed to be better now, she was supposed to quit. 

But she didn’t want to be better. She wanted the pain to go away.

“Cait, stay here tonight. Talk to me. I’m not gonna let you be alone when you’re hurting like this. Let me to stay with you until you can fall back asleep.”

“I don’t want to be botherin’ you.” She insisted, getting up from his bed. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be alright.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured, “I can’t sleep anyway.” 

“Seriously, just go back to bed, I’ll-“

“Don’t be stupid, I want to stay up with you.”

“Oh.” She whispered, shocked by his willingness to keep her company right now. “Well, alright.”

He patted the empty area next to him, inviting her to join him. And so she did. She sank into the foam mattress, the both of them counting cracks in the concrete ceiling until Grant broke the silence.

“Can I ask you about what you were dreaming about?”

Some part of her tensed up when he asked that, an instinctual thing learned through years of keeping her walls up. But he was different. She felt comfortable around him, she felt safe. She’d never felt that before. Throughout her whole life, she was on edge, ready for someone to stab her in the back whenever she got the chance, but around him, she felt as if she could let him in and see her for everything she was, for better or for worse. He deserved to know.

“You’ve read my contract, so you know about Tommy and the slavers I was with. But you don’t know about me parents. The one who fucked me up in the first place.”

“You’re not fucked up.” He corrected.

“Yes I am.” She rebuked, eyes fixated on everything but him. “You should know that better than anyone.”

They were all fucked up in their own ways, he wasn’t denying that. But he knew what she was really trying to say and what she was trying to imply. Cait really thought she was fucked up, broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed. She’d never explicitly tell him, nor did he ever expect her to, but he could tell. Her hurt didn’t come in self-deprecating jokes or mornings spent lying helplessly in bed, she would never allow herself to be vulnerable like that. But he saw it in her eyes, the way she hesitated around him sometimes. She trusted him now, he knew she did but she still had walls up, ones built through years and years of hurt. He guessed it was up to him to knock those down.

“You’re not fucked up. But continue.”

“Well you can thank my parents for that, if you can even call them that.” She sneered, the bitterness evident before she even got into the heart of the story. “They did everything in their power to make my life a living hell. Yell at me, beat me, starve me, everything you could think of, they did. The whole time I was tellin’ meself that they had to love me, even if it was just the tiniest bit, because they never kicked me out. Then me eighteenth birthday arrived, and I found out why they kept me around. They slapped a shock collar around me neck and sold me to slavers. They didn’t even care enough about me to say goodbye.” 

She looked down and for a second she looked as if she’d stop talking, but she shook off the pain of remembering and continued. 

“I was with those slavers for five years. Roughest five of me goddamn life. The things they made me do, the way they used me for their amusement. It sickens me to my stomach even thinkin’ about it. Instead of headin’ off to try and repair the shambles of me life, I gave in to me rage and I headed home. You can imagine the look on me parents faces when I kicked open their door. What you can’t imagine is what they looked like after...after I emptied me gun into them.” 

After she stopped speaking, there was radio silence, something that scared the hell out of her. He had already seen her at her worst, she really had nothing to fear at this point. But some part of her was terrified that he’d be disappointed in her, that he’d see her any differently.

But she should have known better. It was Grant after all.

He searched for the words, any words that could possibly do such a tragic story justice. There really weren’t any.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered back in the darkness, a pathetic apology on behalf of the universe. 

“Don’t be. You didn’t do any of that stuff to me. In fact, I think you’re the first scrap of humanity I’ve ever found in this fucked up world.” 

Deep down that scared him a little. Knowing that she held him in such a high regard put an enormous amount of pressure on him and he didn’t know if he could handle it. He didn’t really think he was all that great of a person honestly, and certainly not a stellar representation of the good in humanity. But here she was, telling him that he was the one good person in the world. He’d probably never understand it.

“Huh.” He snorted. “Bold thing to say about a dumbass like me.”

“Oh shut up.” Cait droned, socking him hard in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You deserved that. You know damn well what kind of person you are.”

Grant was lucky they were in the darkness, or else she would have seen that mile-wide smile she just put on his face. Compliments had always meant next to nothing to him, just sweet talk from people who didn’t really care about him. But there was something about hearing things from her that filled him up inside, made him feel genuinely good. Ah the things that Cait did to him.

The conversation soon fell flat and the two of them found themselves trying to get back to sleep. She buried herself into his sheets, tossing and turning, but every time she tried to close her eyes, she felt the fear rush back into her system and her eyes shot wide open. There was no way she was getting back to sleep like this.

“Grant?” 

“Mhm?” He murmured sleepily.

“I’m not fallin’ asleep, you wanna do somethin’?”

“Like what?”

“Don’t know. Just somethin’.”

He paused for a second, racking his brain for a place he could take Cait that would keep her entertained and not get him killed.

“Third Rail sound good to you?”

“Sure, nothin’ better than a good, stiff drink.”

The Third Rail was practically empty. After all, who else was crazy enough to get drunk at 4 am? It was eerie seeing it so empty, not a single person in the room besides Whitechapel. Cait preferred it this way, she couldn’t stand watching Magnolia try and flirt with Grant all the damn time. Just one of the many reasons why she preferred getting drunk on the roof.

“Hey Whitechapel.” He called out, shoving a giant pile of caps towards him. “Get us the best stuff money can buy.”

“Good on ya.” 

Every shot Whitechapel put down, Grant and Cait raised up, shot upon shot downed as the night went on.

Now Grant loved the occasional cold beer, but ever since Cait came around it seemed like he was getting wasted more and more often. Normally he’d order a couple rounds and call it a night, but with her? Each drink offered seemed like a better and better idea. The jokes got funnier, he became a comedian of epic proportions and he had finally gained the nerve to flirt with that really cute girl he’d been crushing on. 

“Heyyy! You...you’re _so_ p-pretty.” He smiled, his words slurred beyond comprehension.

“Well, you’re not so bad lookin’ yourself, handsome.”

“Handsome? You..you think I’m handsome?”

“Damn right I do.” 

Grant’s cheeks turned bright red, a warmth emanating from a face. He was about to counter that with a super smooth pickup line but the world seemed intent on cockblocking him. 

“Now I hate to break you two lovebirds up, but I’m ‘fraid we’re closing down soon.”

“C’mon Whitechapel, just one more round.” She pleaded.

“Sorry love, but I’ve got to shut it down for the night.”

“Alright alright. Let’s get out of here.” She relented.

Her hand rubbed against his bicep and a sound escaped him. He couldn’t tell if it was a moan, a whimper or a yelp but one thing was sure: that girl already had him wrapped around her finger. His head shot up as soon as they got outside, looking for the stars that he loved so much. They were nonexistent on this spring night, replaced by puffs of dark grey.

“We need to get back to Diamond City before it starts pissin’ it down,” Cait said, looking up at the looming rain clouds. 

“Yeah, you’re righ-,” 

Almost as if on cue, a fat raindrop fell on his nose. And another. The dark grey twilight was now covered in pitch-black darkness, the once gentle raindrops now beating down from the sky. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before this thing turned into a full blown thunderstorm.

He turned to Cait, eyes illuminated with awe and panic.

“We gotta get under some shelter. Now.”

She nodded in agreement, gliding her hand down his arm, and folding it over Grant’s. Her fingers laced with his, as his heart began to beat faster. She pulled him under an awning, the broken metal doing little to protect them from the rain. They dashed from cover to cover, doing everything they could to avoid getting soaked, but their efforts proved futile. Grant leaned back against an old doorframe, trying to pull his skin tight shirt off his chest.

“Damn rain soaked right through my clothes.” He laughed.

“I don’t mind. I think you look handsome.”

Something clicked in him when he heard that. Something primal that overpowered all his insecurities and fears.

“Y...you think...fuck, I can’t. I can’t wait any longer. I’m sorry if I’m bad but I’ve been wanting to do this for so long so just close your eyes an-“

Before he even got the chance to finish his sentence, she pressed her lips into his, the kiss stealing all the words he didn’t need to say. 

You think that after all that time he had spent fantasizing about kissing her, Grant would have known what her lips would be like, but he couldn’t have possibly expected how warm they’d be pressed up against his. Every single thought, every single worry of his got completely obliterated as she wrapped her sandpaper hands around his neck, her lips moving in perfect sync with his. Her body loosened as he slid his hands down to her waist, their kiss growing deeper as their lips grew more comfortable with one another’s. After what seemed like an eternity and at the same time far not enough, she pulled away, her hands still on his neck, taking shaky gulps of air. He looked down and saw he was trembling violently, goosebumps dotting both of his bare forearms. Whether they were from the cold or the kiss was unknown to him.

What the hell did they just do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had only planned to release one chapter today but after Benign Intervention, I felt bad making you wait an entire week for just 600 words. So here you have it, the first kiss between Grant and Cait and let me tell you, it certainly won't be the last. You'll just have to wait to see when the next one is. See you all next Wednesday!


	14. Chess, Coffee and Crushes

He always said the roof was good for thinking. But as Cait buried her head into her hands, she realized that despite being up here for hours, she hadn’t gotten any closer to sorting out the thoughts that had been plaguing her for so long. 

Four weeks. It had been four weeks since they kissed in Goodneighbor and her little crush on him just refused to let up. At first she thought it was just a temporary thing, a symptom of such a passionate kiss. But as the weeks went on, she found herself falling harder and harder for him, something that scared the actual fuck out of her. Neither of them had dared to mention what happened that night and she just couldn’t figure out why. That kiss was...well it was really fucking good. She’s kissed plenty of people before, tons of people actually, but they were all soulless precursors to sex. But that kiss? There was so much more behind it, a realness, a passion that couldn’t be feigned. She couldn’t forget the words that came before it. 

“I can’t wait any longer.”

“I’ve been waiting to do this for so long.”

He wanted her, and he’d been wanting her for a while now. But how long? Maybe he wasn’t even talking about a kiss, maybe she had assumed wrong and just kissed him out of nowhere. But how can you kiss someone like that if you don’t want it? 

Then again he was drunk. So fucking drunk. Blackout drunk really. He could hardly eek out a comprehensible sentence, much less declare his love for her.

Maybe she was just projecting her feelings onto him.

She thought back to the first time she ever fell in love and it made her sick to her goddamn stomach. The way he used her, the way he treated her... it had fucked her up for life. After what Stratton did to her, she swore to herself that she would never ever date again, never let herself be vulnerable like that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to risk getting hurt like that all over again. 

But Grant. 

Oh Grant.

He was the kindest person she had ever met, the one person in her life that had been there for her through the highs and lows. She couldn’t stop thinking about him all day, no matter how hard she tried. It was honestly like she had gone from one addiction to the next. His goofy smile, his warm lips, h-

“Yes! Oh my fucking God, I did it! I did it! Yes! Wooooooooooo!”

Cait got up from her lawn chair and headed downstairs, trying to figure out what the hell Grant was doing. He had holed himself up in the kitchen since the crack of dawn, working on “secret stuff” as he liked to call it. He could be building a nuclear bomb for all she knew.

“How’s your secret stuff goin’?” 

He looked up at her with those big, eager eyes she couldn’t stop thinking about, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. 

“Try this.” He smiled. 

“What is it?”

“Just try it.”

She took the cups into her hands, swirling the mysterious black liquid around before bringing it up to her lips, breathing in the earthy aroma. Cautiously she took a small sip, gulping in more once she got a taste.

“What the hell is this?” 

“Coffee!” He exclaimed giddily, his eyes full of a childlike wonder. “It was a prewar drink that gives you energy. I’ve been trying for weeks to recreate it but I could never get the taste right. But Hancock hooked me up with some prewar coffee beans and I got it! I can’t believe I got it!”

Aw. 

He was so cute when he got excited, that energy just radiated and she couldn’t help but feel excited with him. It was such a contrast to the first day the spent with each other. She thought he was such an ass, and could you blame her? He was cold, overly sarcastic and acted like everyone else she had ever met. But since then she had seen the real Grant, the one no one else got to see. He was kind, generous, softer than she even thought one person could be, yet at the same time, he’d kick in your teeth if you dared fucked with him. He was...perfect.

Ugh what the fuck happened to her? She was turning all soft and mushy. Gross, feelings. 

“Hey,” he called out, picking up something from the counter next to him, “grab a cup and let’s head up to the roof, we’ve got to celebrate this.” 

She found herself back on the roof, somehow more enamored with him than she was 5 minutes ago. Not much had changed, except for the little checkered board Grant had set down, arranging little black and white figures neatly into rows. 

“The hell is that?”

“Chess. A little prewar game people liked to play.”

“What’s up with all the prewar stuff today? You feelin' nostalgic or somethin’?”

If only she knew what was really up.

He hadn’t really thought about prewar stuff too extensively since he left the Vault, and it was an intentional choice. He kept himself busy, real fucking busy, always in a fight, always working to tackle the next big enemy. There wasn’t any time to think about your dead wife and son when you did that. 

But then the Institute fell and well, there really was no bigger enemy than them. The weeks after that were hell. After the confetti was swept up and the crowds went home, he was alone, nothing but his thoughts and his past to keep him company. So he filled his days with cigarettes, bottles full of hazy brown poison, and any chems that would make him wake up in a puddle of his own piss the next morning. That wasn’t who he was, he knew that. Hell, he didn’t drink more than two beers a month prewar. But damn does the Commonwealth change you. 

So does love.

Ever since he fell for her, he’d been thinking more and more about his first love. Nora. He really thought he’d never love again after they met, how could he? He loved her with all his heart and somehow she loved him back. They promised on their wedding day that they’d go together and that if one of them went first, the other would never love again. 

But they never could have predicted this, could they?

After all that time alone, thinking he’d never meet anyone he loved half as much as Nora, he found her.

Cait.

Falling in love was supposed to be perfect, wasn’t it? But after the initial crush phase, he was forced to face the hard truth of it all again. An awful weight of guilt began to sit on his chest as he fell harder for Cait, one that couldn’t be lifted by alcohol or chems. Nora and him were high school sweethearts, a perfect love story, a once in a lifetime scenario. It was the kind of thing most people could only dream of having. But here he was, falling in love with a girl he only met a couple months ago. How the hell could he be this in love with Cait if he ever really loved Nora? 

Was he a bad husband? 

“Oi! We talkin' or what?”

“Oh, I uh,” he stammered, snapped out of his trance, “w-what’d you ask again?”

“Forget it, why don’t you just teach me how to play this damn thing, would you?”

He gave the quickest rundown he could of such a complicated game. I mean, how do you explain knights and rooks to someone who has no concept of medieval times?

She wasn’t so impressed with his explanation.

“This is the most borin’ shite I’ve ever heard of.” She scoffed dismissively. “Who the hell would want to play that crap? I’m out.”

“Is that cause you’re afraid of losing?”

Oh no. Cait never backed down from a challenge and this wasn’t any different. She’d kick Grant’s ass in anything even this stupid medieval board game. 

Well. So she thought.

=====

“Checkmate.”

“No fuckin’ way! We’ve only been playing for a minute!”

“Fool’s mate baby!” He smiled, leaning back in his chair.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in mock, yet slightly real anger. 

“This game is so stupid. I’m done.” She muttered, preparing to get up and walk away.

But before she could rage quit, he grabbed her hand, her heart skipping a beat when he did. It’d been doing that a lot recently. She chalked it up to a symptom of sudden chem withdrawal, but it always seemed to happen around Grant. Plus his hands were so warm, like his lips and-

Ahem.

“C’mon. You can make good caps off this. Let me teach you a little more, I promise this’ll be fun. Please?”

Well, how exactly was she supposed to resist those beautiful grey eyes of his? 

“Fine, but don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

===

It turns out everything’s pretty damn fun when you win.

“Ha! My horse kills your pointy guy. I win!”

“First of all,” he droned, “the horse is called a knight and the pointy guy is the king. Secondly, I totally let you win. 7 consecutive losses wouldn’t be good for your ego, you know?” 

“Oh don’t kid yourself, you’re just mad you got your arse kicked by someone who only learned to play a couple hours ago.”

“Kicked? You were down to two pawns, a knight and your king, I’d hardly say that’s an ass kicking.”

“Well at least I still had a king left. Can’t say the same for you can I?”

“Oh you wanna go?” He taunted, sitting up in his chair. “I’m playing for real this time.”

“Ha, deal! I’ll crush ya, McKay.”

So the day went on, dozens of games, rounds of teasing and trash talk, all culminating in a flipped board and rows of neatly arranged pieces scattered on the floor. Okay, so maybe Cait was a little bit of a sore loser but, at the end of the day, she realized Grant had captured a whole lot more than just her stupid little king.

He had captured her heart. 


	15. He Isn’t Crazy, He’s Just Talking to His Dead Wife

“Hey babe.” He whispered, eyes fixated on the navy blue sky above him, the skies opening up just enough to cover him in a light drizzle. “You’re probably getting sick of me talking to you so much huh? I just wanted to talk to you tonight, apologize for some things and well, ask you for advice.”

He felt pretty damn crazy when he started talking to her, after all, trying to talk to the dead was something people like of Mama Murphy did. But he eventually found solace in his lunacy, and just accepted the crazy for what it was. He knew damn well that she couldn’t hear him right now but there was something about it that made him feel better inside, soothed his unsettled soul.

“I know I’ve uh, been a pretty shitty husband these past few years. You were everything to me for long and yet I tried to act like you were nothing, somehow erase you from my memory.”

He looked down for a moment, trying to regain his composure before returning his gaze up to the rain.

“I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not, you loved me and you’re gone now and...and I just have to live with that.”

His breath began to tremble as he tried to verbalize what he’d been bottling up inside for so long, the words he’d been feeling but had been afraid to put out into the world.

“But life without you has been so goddamn hard and...and I think I love her.”

He knew it at this point like he knew his own mind, he loved Cait more than anything. This wasn’t some short term crush thing, he was in love. Madly, irreversibly, hopelessly in love.

But he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t go any further without knowing Nora was okay with it. Even though he’d never really know. He just needed a sign, or something that’d tell his aching heart it was okay to feel like he did.

“Is it alright if I move on, Nora? If I love someone new?”

No response. 

And he would never really get one.

There wouldn’t ever be a moment where she’d look at him with her deep sienna eyes and tell him it was okay, that he could move on and find love again. He would never get such a satisfying conclusion and a part of that killed him inside.

But as he sat there, heart aching with indecision, the light drizzle stopped falling and the clouds that had been blanketing the night sky were soon whisked away. Presented to him were the stars he loved so much, as clear as the sign Nora was giving him right now. 

Seemingly spelled out in the stars was her response to his burning question, her final message to him.

Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen chapters into a romance fanfic and you're all still waiting for the romance. Hm. Well maybe, just maybe, things start changing next week. I'll see you guys next Wednesday, with the promised romance. Maybe.


	16. Ain't This Just Super Duper?

“So what do I do? He sighed, kicking his feet up on her hideously yellow couch. 

“Blue, you don’t have to ask me that. You know what to do.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she rejects me or something?”

“She won’t, I’ve seen how she looks at you. That girl loves you just as much as you love her. Even if you don’t believe it.”

He stared up at the little cracks in the ceiling, trying to rationalize what she was saying. He _did_ see some of the signs, he wasn’t completely blind. I mean, how was he not supposed to see the bit lips, the flushed cheeks, and that look she loved to give him? It just seemed...unbelievable.

He had come to peace with the fact that he was moving on from Nora, that night on the roof sealing it for him. Now stopping him were his own insecurities, the fears that she didn’t love him back. It was enough to cripple a man into submission. But the feelings were getting stronger, way stronger and it was beginning to get unbearable. He loved her, so damn much. Could he forgive himself if he ruined their friendship?

“I see the gears churning in your head Blue, stop overthinking this. Just tell her how you feel, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I really don’t.” He muttered as he sat up. “Look, I’ve got to go, I’m on ghoul clearing duty, but thanks for the advice Piper, it really does mean a lot to me.”

“Anytime.”

So out the door he went, off to return home to his best friend/crush, and somehow convince himself in those 20 steps that no he wasn’t in love, just a little lonely. Then he saw her and well, that went out the window. 

Was she always that beautiful? It seemed like every time he saw her, her eyes were a deeper hue of green, her face grew a couple new freckles and her hair got a little fierier. 

God she was gorgeous.

“Got a starin’ problem McKay?”

“Huh? Uh, no.” He stammered, rather unconvincingly. “Uh, so what’d you get up to while I was gone?”

“Nothin’ much, just did some cleanin’.”

“Cleaning? Since when do you clean?”

“I don’t know. Got bored of waitin’ for you so I just started neatenin’ some stuff up. Put the radio on, drank a couple beers, it was pretty damn fun.”

“Look at you!” Grant chuckled. “A proper housewife.”

“Oh bite me.” She growled, rolling her eyes.

“Ha, you wish! Now c’mon grab your stuff, let’s get going.” 

===

Grant stepped over the bloodied rubble, trying to figure out a solution to this impossible question. There was so much at stake, each choice had its own implications and he couldn’t figure out how he could possibly decide.

As the two walked down the city streets, he pondered it more and more, contemplating each option over and over until he finally got it; the answer to his question.

“Okay. I’ve got it. If I had to, if I _really really_ had to, I’d lick the Combat Zone bathroom clean. But only if I _really_ had to.”

“Are you serious? That’s a punishment worse than death. I’d rather just take my chances with frenchin’ the brahmin. 

“But the drool.” He whimpered. “Eugh.”

“Trust me, there’s a whole lot worse than drool on the floor of the Combat Zone.”

“Judging by the smell of this place,” he said as he looked up at the building in front of him, “I’m guessing there’s a lot more than just drool here too.”

Ah the Super Duper Mart, Boston’s favorite budget supermarket chain. It honestly made him sad to see it in such a dilapidated state, an iconic part of Lexington’s architecture reduced to rust. What a shame.

“So what’s wrong with this place?” She mumbled, loading her rifle. “Shamblers, mutants, crazy radstags?”

“Knight Rhys says it’s a ghoul infestation. That would probably explain the smell then, wouldn’t it?”

“Fresh ghoul, that’s a smell I’m never gonna forget.”

“What do you say we freshen things up?”

She shot him a devilish smile, and before they knew it, the door was kicked in and bullets began to fly. 

Out of all the wasteland creatures to empty her gun into, ghouls were probably her least favorite. They were really nothing but annoying, why the hell didn’t they just stand still and let her bash their stupid wrinkly heads in?

Sure would make her job a lot easier. 

But even though she hated the goddamn ghouls, there was nothing that brought her more joy than fighting alongside Grant. It was hard to imagine life before him. Well. Not exactly. 

Don’t get it wrong, it wasn’t like she had forgotten her years of torment or anything. She remembered everything, from how her parents stole her innocence to the way the slavers broke her body. She remembered everything her abusers had did to her and there was no way she could ever, _ever_ forget it. But the longer she spent with him, the more the misery and awful loneliness she had felt for so long became foreign to her. Yeah maybe they had the occasional argument or two over who had to do the dishes or something, but for the first time in her life, she had someone she could honestly talk to, someone she could rely on. 

She couldn’t even begin to describe how he had changed her, it sort of scared her how soft she had gotten. I mean, look at her. Here she was fighting off a pack of shamblers and all she could think about was how much she loved being friends with Grant. Ugh, feelings. 

If it was just Cait who was distracted they’d probably have the entire place cleared out by now, but unbeknownst to her, Grant’s mind was also on other things. The same damn thing his mind had been on for the past couple months. 

Her. 

How was he supposed to focus when she was right there, looking at him like that? Those bright green eyes laced with desire, seemingly piercing into his soul. God he didn’t care anymore, he really fucking didn’t. All of the fear and doubt that had stopped him before didn’t matter to him now. Yeah maybe she didn’t feel the same way about him, maybe he was about to make the biggest mistake in his life and completely ruin everything, but he couldn’t hide it anymore, he couldn’t go another second without her knowing how he felt about her. 

So when the final ghoul went down, in the time usually reserved for catching their breath, he spoke up, finally at his breaking point.

“Cait, I love you.”

She nodded in agreement, still trying to recover from such a prolonged fight, until the words fully registered and she realized what he just said.

“Wait, what?”

“I love you.” He repeated, voice shaking a little more this time. 

Cait’s heart skipped a beat. Or two. Maybe three, it was hard to tell really. 

“Me?”

“You.”

“But I’m not right for you Grant,” she stammered, “I’m a fucked up cage fighter and I-”

“No, you’re not.” He asserted. 

He felt as if he had told her that a million times already and he’d keep saying it over and over until she understood what she really was. Who she really was.

“You’re everything I want in life. God, I want you so badly Cait, I want you to be mine. Will you?”

A silence hummed in the air, Grant’s breath frozen in his lungs as he waited on her response, the faithful words that would seal his destiny. 

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't expect that huh? This wasteland love story won't be a perfect fairytale, but next week is looking like it might fare a little better for our beloved duo. You'll just have to read to find out. See you next Wednesday!


	17. No?

Grant choked and sputtered, still in disbelief in what he just heard.

“I-I-uh, no?” 

“No, not no, I...I don’t know.“

“What do you mean you don’t know, how can you not know?”

“No I do know,” she shot back, “I do know, it’s just complicated and-“

“Cait.” He interrupted, eyes twisted in pain. “Do you feel the same way about me? Do you love me?”

It was a million-dollar question and he was putting her on the spot right now, something he’d usually never dream of doing. But his heart was in horrendous pain as he mulled on her “no”, the word that he’d grown deathly afraid of. He needed to know, he needed to know if she cared, if she felt like he did.

Cait knew her answer, she’d knew it once they kissed, and it hadn’t changed since then. She loved him. Really fucking loved him. The first person she had ever truly loved in her entire life was standing right in front of her, tears welling in his eyes as he desperately waited for her to say it back. But as she tried to say the damn thing, the words lodged in the back of the throat, refusing to come out. So instead of uttering the three words he needed to hear, she just nodded, a sad excuse of what she really felt. 

“You love me?”

She nodded again.

“Then why’d you say no?” He croaked. 

“I...I’m just scared okay?”

God, that was so hard to say. She wasn’t allowed to admit fear any other time in her life, and it was still hard now. Deep down she was scared, scared he’d be like everyone else. Through months of dedicated friendship and unwavering love, she shouldn’t have felt that way anymore, she knew she shouldn’t. Grant had always been there and had always been better than every other piece of shit she’d ever had the unfortune of knowing. He deserved her trust at this point. Every single time she worried he’d be like everyone else, he went above and beyond to prove he wasn’t. But still. She remembered the last time she denied someone she “loved”, and how fucked that ended. No one ever came back after she said no to them and she couldn’t stand it if Grant did the same. She couldn’t go back to life without him.

“Why?”

“Ya know what Stratton did to me and ya know how he fucked me over. I’m not ready to go through that again.” 

“Cait, you really think I’m anything that guy?” He asked. “I saw what he looked like and hate to break it to you, I’m way handsomer. And not dead.” 

What a smartass.

She loved it.

“Ya can actually grow a proper beard too. It’s damn impressive.”

“My beard is pretty damn great.” He chuckled, running his hands through the thick mess of hairs. 

Look at them. Within a single minute they managed to shift away from the uncomfortable topic and talk about something completely different. Classic Grant and Cait.

But this time he wasn’t content with changing topics, he needed a conclusion to this and no matter how weird and uncomfortable it got, he was going to get it.

“But if you’re not ready,” he gulped, swallowing his words, “then I’ll wait.”

“What?”

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to be with me. You’re worth waiting for.” He repeated. “I’ve gone two years without you, what’s a little longer?”

He...

After all the trouble she put him through, after everything he did for her, he kept offering to do more. There was nothing, absolutely nothing stopping them from being together right now besides her fucking cowardice and she hated it. She had everything she had ever wanted in life right in front of her, but of course she had to go and ruin it. 

No.

She wouldn’t allow it, she couldn’t forgive herself if she fucked up the one good thing she ever had in life. Whatever fear and doubt was racing through her body right now was put on the back burner as she stared into the eyes of the man she loved. 

“Grant?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Wait," he stammered, trying to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, "what?”

“I’m ready.” She reaffirmed. 

“Are you sure, I don’t want you to-“

Before he could finish his thought, she grabbed his waist and pressed her lips into his, her kiss answering everything he needed to know. He was left in a daze when she finally pulled away, eyes wide with awe. Those surprise kisses were really something, weren’t they? 

“So...you’ll be my girlfriend?” He smiled, cheeks flushed red. 

She didn’t know much, but she knew the man in front of her. She knew he loved her and she loved him back. And most importantly, she knew her answer.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took 3 months, 17 chapters, and roughly 28,000 words but our beloved duo of Cait and Grant are finally together! What kind of havoc will they wreak on the Commonwealth? What kind of havoc will they wreak on each other? Trust me, I've got a lot of good stuff written and I can't wait to share it with you guys. See you next week!


	18. Massive Fucking Idiot

The two laid together, listening to the wind howl as the rest to the world slowed to a crawl. They’d been up for hours, eleven o clock morphing into twelve and then one. The time trickled by, marked only by those changing numbers on his Pip Boy. But unlike other sleepless nights, their minds weren’t haunted by past failures and tragedies, but rather lighting up with new possibilities, new sources of happiness and purpose. 

All of them involving the person by their side.

Of course, they weren’t very good at expressing that.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Huh?”

“You’re an idiot McKay, a massive fuckin’ idiot.” 

“Oh I love you too.” He scoffed dryly.

“Well dontcha wanna know why I think you’re an idiot?”

“Cait, there are about a million reasons why I’m an idiot and as much as I love listening to the sound of your voice, I’m not sure we’d have enough time to hear them all.”

“Okay, stop takin’ everythin’ so literally, I was just gonna say you’re an idiot for fallin’ in love with me.”

“An idiot?” Grant scoffed, turning to face his beloved girlfriend. “Convincing someone like you to date someone like me was probably the most impressive accomplishment of my entire life.”

“You’re tellin’ me that the same guy who took down the Institute thinks that that datin’ a low life like me is his greatest achievement?”

“Babe,” he cooed, “wooing you was a million times harder than taking down a whole bunch of synths. You really didn’t make it easy on me.”

“Well _you_ didn’t make it easy on me either. How the hell was I supposed fall for someone who tried to shoot me and had his head in the stars?” 

Ah the good ole days. Back when Cait was just a pissed off cage fighter and Grant, the stupid asshole who ended up with her contract. Back when things were simpler. In hindsight, it wasn’t very long ago, less than half a year actually, but somehow it felt like a lifetime. 

“So you wanna play that game, huh? Remember that time you punched me in the face? Remember that? Cause my jaw still does.”

“Oh shut up.” She droned, shoving him hard in the chest.

“Ow! What is it with you and hurting me?” 

“Heh, you deserved that.” 

He looked at her with those sad little puppy eyes, wrapping his arms around her torso, as he pulled her closer to his body.

“Aw c’mon.” He whined. “Don’t be like that.”

“Now what the hell do you think you’re doin’?” 

“It's called showing affection.”

“Disgusting.” She spat, shaking her head.

As disgusting as she thought it was, she allowed her soft teddy bear of a boyfriend to bury his head in her shoulder, sighing at his softness. Just this once.

After a couple minutes, she began to wiggle out of his grip, so he pulled away, finally shutting up and just letting the look in his eyes speak for itself. And so they laid there, staring into each other’s eyes as they fought for territory on the queen sized battlefield. 

“Grant I swear to God, if you steal the blankets one more time I’m gonna put my feet on you.” 

“Don’t you dare.” He warned, a teasing look in his eyes.

And so she dared.

“Aaaah!” He screamed, twisting and contorting his body to avoid her freezing cold feet. “Okay okay okay, truce! Truce!”

All she could do was smirk, smiling at how adorable his screams were. In a noncreepy way of course.

“Maybe next time you fuck with my blankets, you’ll remember this.” She said smugly, yanking the sheet towards her. 

“Trust me, nothing about you is forgettable. You’re the most unforgettable person I’ve ever met. " He paused for a second, letting the message really sink in. "Yet somehow you fell in love with me. I still can’t believe it.”

“Didn't we just go over this? It’s really not that hard to believe. Who wouldn’t love you?” 

“A lot of people. Nearly everyone I meet actually.”

“What bullshit.” She rebuked. “Don’t even act like every single woman you ever meet doesn’t fall in love with you on sight.”

“Oh c’mon,” he groaned, “that’s not true.”

“It totally is. Piper, Magnolia, Curie, every single one of them fuckers fell in love as soon as they saw you.”

“Well was it love at first sight for you too?”

She thought back to that faithful day they met and remembered just how much she wanted to beat him into a pulp. He was just as kind from the beginning, and it was crazy how blind she was to it. In fact, that kindness made her even more enraged at the fact that she was stuck with this guy out of all people. She believed her exact words were along the lines of “too hard to be likable and too soft to make it in the wasteland”. Back then, she couldn’t help but curse at Tommy, wishing she had her contract given to some ordinary bloke rather than this weirdo who gave her grand speeches about how much he hated contracts. Well, she loved that weirdo now didn’t she? 

“McKay, I wanted nothing more than to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat, I wouldn’t call it love at first sight.”

Grant cocked his eyebrow up, giving her that smug smile that drove her crazy.

“What the hell are ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“So what you’re telling me is that within 30 seconds of meeting me, you were already thinking about my dick. I'd consider that true love."

“If that’s what you call love, why dontcha show me just how much you love me?” She smirked, running her hand down his chest.

Off to the races they went. 

And before they knew it, a pair of shirts and pants laid on the floor beside them, thrown haplessly in a frenzy. Two lovers lied beside each other as dawn cracked through the window, both of them sweaty and breathless from finally breaking in that bed, their first night as a couple ending with a bang. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex, insults and a heaping dose of sarcasm. Did you expect anything else from these two? There'll be a lot more of that coming up, but maybe not in the way you expect it. What do I mean by that? Well it all starts next chapter, so I'll see you next Wednesday!


	19. Biggest Shithole on Planet Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of hitting 1000 hits, I'm posting two chapters today! Enjoy the extra content guys!

On most days, the Commonwealth was the biggest shithole on planet Earth. The white sand beaches had been turned to bloody, mirelurk infested dumps, the sprawling city turned into an utter wasteland. But today? Today the Commonwealth of Massachusetts didn't look all that bad. In fact, it was pretty damn gorgeous. 

Cait was paying no attention of course, she was too busy rubbing her thumb over her cheek, trying to clean off all the dried dirt and blood currently caked on her face. That fight with those raiders was absolutely brutal, I mean, she had never seen so many in one place. In her experience, most raiders were too cutthroat to gather in groups larger than ten, but if she counted right, there were 43 bloodthirsty raiders in all, every one of them eager to paint the walls with their blood. And honestly, there were a couple moments she thought they would die, 43 against 2 was hardly a fair matchup. But Grant kept proving her wrong, laughing in the face of death as bullets whizzed by his head. He sure was one crazy son of a bitch.

You think after such a hard-fought battle he'd be injecting himself with some stimpaks, maybe plugging his gunshot wounds up, but it was Grant after all, and Grant was fucking weird. 

The first day they met, she couldn't figure out why he loved looking at the sky so much, and not a single thing had changed since then. As usual, Grant had his eyes fixated on the sunset, a little smile stuck on his face. 

"What, are the clouds shaped like naked ladies or somethin'?"

"No, no, it's just...I was just wondering how something so beautiful can exist in such a fucked up world."

"Yeah yeah, I know you love the sunset and al-"

"No," he interrupted, "I was talking about you, Cait." 

She couldn't help but stammer and turn away, trying to hide her reddening face from him. She had never been good at all this bleeding heart stuff, especially when it came to relationships. After all, what experience did she have to base that stuff on? Her parents, who agreed on nothing but making Cait's life a living hell? The slavers, whose only sense of romance was calling her sweetie before forcing themselves on her? How the hell was she supposed to compare to a guy who had an entire marriage under his belt? A prewar marriage nonetheless. 

Grant never really talked about his wife, and she really didn't mind, he didn't need to be reminding himself about that. Besides, she really didn't need to know anything about Nora to know she wasn't a stupid piece of shit like Stratton. Normally, Cait wasn't one to care about past lovers, after all, everyone's done things and people they've regretted, but all of this romantic stuff was really making her wonder. They had only been together for a week or so, but Grant had already blown Stratton out of the water, not like that was hard to do or anything. But as the days went on, she had a feeling she didn't hold a candle to his late wife. How could a fucked up cage fighter ever compare to a prewar lawyer? 

Would she ever be enough for him? 

"Well, that sunset is somethin' isn't it?" She muttered, trying to change the topic to something he couldn't turn romantic. 

"Sure is darling." He smiled, turning to give her a kiss on her dirt-stained cheek. 

All it left was a little wet mark; a shallow pool of saliva, but when he planted the kiss there, she felt a pleasant buzz spread through her limbs and mind, even better than a Psycho rush. Is that how love was supposed to feel? 

Was she capable of making him feel like that?

Before she knew it, her mind began wandering again, and soon, all she could think about was how much of a failure she was and how much she was letting him down. For a moment, it seemed as if she would get consumed by those thoughts, but yet again, Grant came in to save the day.

"Hey, thanks for covering me in there. You saved my ass."

"T'wasn't all me. You're the one who put those grenades in their pockets."

"Fuck, I almost forgot about that! You remember that look on their faces when they heard the ticking?" Grant howled. "That one guy practically pissed his pants!" 

Cait couldn't help but join him, and it wasn't long before the two were in tears, shaking with laughter. Tears began to roll down her face, her chest tight from laughing so damn hard. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this damn good about life.

"And remember when he said 'you ain't tough, rookie'? Fuckin' gold!" 

"Stop, stop!" He begged, doubled over in laughter. "I'm gonna piss myself!" 

As the two sat there together, Cait could feel her earlier doubts begin to melt away. There was something about these moments that she couldn't get enough of. _This_ was the shit she loved, no pressure to be romantic or affectionate, just two best friends soaking in every moment they could get with each other. It honestly felt like she could stay outside this dirty factory with him forever, just laughing and talking shit. Despite all of her doubts and fears, in that moment, every good thing seemed possible, likely even. She couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe she had found what she had been searching for for so long. Someone to show her what it meant to be happy.

"Alright, alright, enough of this crap, you hungry babe?" Grant asked, rummaging around in his backpack. 

"Depends on what we're eatin'." Cait said with a mischievous smile, running her hand along his inner thigh.

"I was thinkin' about cram sandwiches and beer, but uh, save your appetite for later." 

They ate in silence at first, both too wrapped up in the contents of the sandwiches to notice or talk to each other. But Grant and Cait were never able to resist each other for long, and soon they were shooting each other looks, darting their eyes away as soon as they caught the other's glance. Grant knew exactly what that look in her eyes meant, and so did Cait.

Setting down the beer in his hand, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his. He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, just relishing the feeling of her warm skin on his face. 

He soon found out they had very different interpretations of eye contact.

Without a moment of hesitation, Cait grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back, straddling his torso with her thighs.

"Oh I just wanted to cud-"

She hastily pressed a finger to his lips, sliding her hands down his legs and sliding off his pants.

"Just let it be."

And so he did, the both of them going at it right in front of the Corvega Assembly Plant.

You know, Cait was really warming up to this whole relationship thing.


	20. Is Parole an Option?

"Another round on me!" Grant hollered, barely able to stay upright.

The entire Dugout Inn erupted in a cheer, the already wasted crowd all too happy to get even drunker. Of course, no one was more eager than the fiery redhead in the stool next to him. 

"Good on ya! But why don't ya slow down with the drinks? Yer lookin' a little woozy there."

"Cait." He said stoically, eyes dead serious. "I'm going to drink your 'sorry arse' under the table."

"Was that supposed to be an impression? That's not what I sound like."

"Tas noh wha I sound like!" He mocked, making sure to duck as soon as he said it. 

He felt a fist whiz above his head, and he couldn't help but thank God for his quick reflexes. 

"So ya think impressions are funny then? Fine then, see how you like this one."

She took another swig of her scotch, readying herself to take on the task of impersonating the one and only Sole Survivor. 

“Oh, look at me pickin’ up junk like I’m a fuckin' hoarder while looking at my partner's arse. What? Ya need a stimpak? Too fuckin' bad cause I can’t spare any of my 127, heal by yourself!"

Grant threw his head back and laughed like a madman, beer shooting out of his nose. He had one of those laughs that you knew was genuine, it just sounded so damn free you couldn't help but laugh along. And Cait had no heart of stone, so it was really no surprise when she started laughing along.

"Okay, okay, I get it." She smiled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for one of her signature rough kisses. You know, the type to leave you with bruises. 

"Lapochka, you two make very good couple. Have always been favorite customers. Most die, but you two, very strong."

"She's the strong one Vadim, I just tag along for the ride."

"Look at me. Now you have me blushin'."

He smiled at her bright red cheeks and took another sip of his whiskey, only to sigh and set it down immediately after.

"Goddamnit, I swear I've got the smaller bladder in the whole damn Commonwealth. Don't go anywhere babe, I'll be back."

"Good luck in there."

Cait twirled her glass, watching the brown poison spin round and round, glad to get a couple moments to herself. I had been a while since she drank alone, not that she was complaining. Bar hookups were fun and all, but getting hit on by drunk, horny guys got old after a while, you know? And lucky for her, Grant was the only drunk, horny guy taking her home tonight. Of course, the questionable creatures of the Dugout Inn did everything they could to change her mind about that.

She could only sigh and roll her eyes when someone slid in the barstool next to her, already bracing herself for the worst. 

"I would offer to buy you a drink gorgeous," he crooned, "but I think I'd be jealous of the glass."

"Ugh. That's the worst pick-up line I've ever heard. You're embarrassin' me."

"Don't like pickup lines eh? Alright fine, let me just cut to the chase. You're hot, I'm hot, there's a bed right over there, you get what I'm saying.

Cait did her best to hold her laughter in, after all, she didn't want to hurt this poor bloke's feelings too badly. But it would be an absolute joke to call this fella hot, I mean c'mon. He looked like every other drunk sucker in this place, and after dating Grant fucking McKay, it was hard to take anyone seriously when they called themselves hot.

"If you're looking for sex, you'd be better off finding someone drunker and blinder." She sneered, taking another sip of her scotch.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He asked, his voice turning a hell of a lot meaner. "I was only being friendly."

"I don't care what you're being. Now I don't like minsin' my words, so I'm gonna be straight with you. Keep botherin' me and I'll smack that stupid look right off your face."

Judging by the look on the guy's face, her little threat had hit right where she wanted it to. He had that sour scowl all sensetive men had when they got their precious little egos hurt. And like all sensitive men, he was either about to call her an ugly bitch, or try to scare her in submission. She really hoped it was the latter. She was itching for a fight and couldn't wait to pummel this asshole into pulp.

The man slowly rose from his barstool, seemingly oblivious to the fact that doing it in slo mo doesn't make it any cooler.

"Sweetie, you better rethink those words, because it sounded to me like a threat and I don't take too kindly to threats."

"T'wasn't a threat. It was a warnin'. Now are you goin' to get out of here, or am I gonna have to make you?"

===

Grant shoved his hands under the water, quickly rubbing them together. He knew damn well that those 15 seconds wouldn't clean off all the blood, piss and radiation he had touched today, but hey, it was the thought that counted right?

He was sure Cait wouldn't mind, she wasn't exactly the most clea-

Ah shit.

A couple months ago, seeing Cait engaging in a full-on bar brawl with a random dude would have been surprising, jarring even. But today? All he could do is chuckle a little to himself and join in the fight. 

Now any fight against Cait and Grant was unfair, especially when it was two on one. How the hell are you supposed to defend yourself against an Irish ball of fury and a vault dweller with a blood alcohol percentage of 0.30? Of course, maybe they also had a tendency for getting a _tad_ bit carried away. Hell, they didn't even notice the guy was lifeless until a couple of Diamond City Security guards pried the two off of him.

"That's enough! Get off!"

"Stop fighting! I said stop fighting!"

Before they knew it, they had their hands held behind their back, finally able to take a look at the destruction they had wreaked on the Dugout Inn. Splintered wooden stools, pools of blood, and one really dead guy. 

A job well done. 

The two shot each other a weary smile, both exhausted from such a hard-fought fight.

"Yeah keep panting, you two will have plenty of time to catch your breath in jail."

Grant couldn't help but laugh at that. Jail? Check another box off the bucket list. 

It was admittedly less fun after he was thrown in the cell. 

"What the hell are we going to do here?" He sighed, head buried in his hands.

"We've got 3 straight days stuck in a giant cell together, you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

He had a mile-wide smile plastered on his face as Cait pushed him up against those jail bars. 

Turns out criminal life wasn't that bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand hits. One thousand hits. One. Thousand. Hits. When I first started writing this in April, I never thought I'd get 200 hits much less 1000. You guys keep blowing me away with your continued support and it drives me to write the best content I possibly can. Thanks for reading and I'll see you guys on Wednesday!


	21. Life is Bullshit

“1, 2, 3, 4-“

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re goin’ explode once you hit ten.” She grumbled, still shaking off the morning fog. 

“No, I’m just counting your freckles.” 

“And what the hell are ya doin’ that for?”

“I just don’t think I’ve seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life.” He gushed, running his hand along the side of her cheek. “I still can’t believe you said yes. I can’t believe such a gorgeous girl would ever agree to date a man like me.” 

She melted a little deeper into the rock-hard mattress, trying to play off what was going on inside her head right now. His words. God, his words. 

Yeah she had been “complimented” before by loads of drunk raiders before but she knew they didn’t mean any of the things they said. Hot, sexy, anything they could shout to get in her pants, she’s heard. But never beautiful. Never gorgeous. She probably wouldn’t have even believed it if they did. She didn’t ever _feel_ beautiful, and why would she? Her parents had done everything in their power to make her feel like an animal, more worthless than the mud on their boots. It’s not like those piece of shit slavers made her feel any better about herself either. But something about the way it came out of Grant’s lips made it so believable, so _real_. He really loved her didn’t he? More than anyone had ever and probably ever will. Their relationship was so new, only a couple weeks old, yet here he was, already full of so much love for her. He told her he adored her every second he could, tried to give her all the affection she could ever possibly ask for, a constant outpour of love. 

It really made her wonder why she couldn’t do that. She loved him and all, but all of this relationship stuff was still so hard for her. Was it supposed to be this hard? Here he was, being Mr. Charming and she couldn’t even hold his goddamn hand. What the hell was wrong with her? As much as she appreciated him and all he did for her, it was starting to eat her up inside. She spent her whole life feeling like she wasn’t enough and here she was, with the man of her dreams and feeling the same damn feelings. 

Life was bullshit, wasn’t it?

But through all of it, Grant never seemed to mind. No matter how many times she shrugged off his gentle grasps, or scoffed at his pet names, he was always the same goofy, lovable bloke she fell in love with. She was beginning to think he had unlimited patience. 

Grant, did not. 

In fact, his "unlimited patience" was beginning to wear thin, so thin, he was beginning to wonder if Cait really loved him. He loved her unconditionally, but all he wanted was for her to love him back, and this unaffectionate stuff starting to bother him. How could it not? How could he not feel rejected and unloved in this moment? Here he was, cuddling the girl he had been crushing on for months, telling her how beautiful she was and all she could do was frown and squirm away?

What he really wanted to do was give her a piece of his mind and tell her how close he was to ending it, but right now he'd just do what he always did: shut up, bottle his feelings and put on a smile. After all, it was always easier than the other option of telling her how much she was pissing him off. 

"Don't be going all soft on me now McKay." She chastized, trying to hide her true feelings of inadequecy from him. "I spent all night trying to get you hard, don't waste all that, yeah?"

"Ha ha." Grant said in a deadpan tone. "Anyway, P.A.M says there's a courser at the Mahkra Fishpacking Plant that needs to be taken out. We should probably take care of it sooner than later."

"Let's head out then."

===

Cait looked over at her companion, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him this time. He hadn't said a single word since the two left the house and it was starting to freak her out. No cheesy pickup lines, no would you rather questions, just dead silence. He wasn't looking up at sky either, just staring blankly at the horizon, a tinge of sadness in his eyes. She had never seen Grant so lifeless before, he was pretty damn happy go lucky most of the time, but today he was moping around like Dogmeat had just died or something. What a weird guy.

"If somethin's on your mind, I'd love to hear about it." She said cautiously, trying to pry information from him without being too obvious.

"Nothing's on my mind. I'm fine."

"Are you sure about that?" 

"Well, not really." He admitted. "But there's nothing I could say that you would want to hear."

"Now wait a second." Cait said, stopping dead in her tracks. "The hell does that mean?"

Grant sighed and looked down at the gravel beneath his boots, kicking a pebble a couple skips down the road. He wouldn't ever really describe Cait as a sensitive person, hell, during their first months together, she was infamous for shutting out any and all emotions that weren't anger. But even so, she had a habit of taking things personally and taking out the aforementioned anger at anything and everything within a 20 feet radius. So you can only imagine why he was hesitant to tell her he wasn't happy with how things were going in their relationship. 

"I don't know, I figured it was pretty self-explanatory." He scoffed.

"Will you stop being a smug bastard and just tell me what's the matter with you?"

"Everything's the matter with me. Just forget it."

His entire body tensed up when Cait turned to stare at him with that signature look of rage, already preparing itself for a hard slap across the face. To his surprise, her face softened after a few seconds, followed by a deep sigh. 

"Grant, we're friends now which means ya can trust me with anythin', even if I don't wanna hear it."

He couldn't help but smile at little at this rare sign of tenderness from her, and before he knew it, that scathing, passive-aggressive comment he was itching to make before was replaced with his best attempt at compassion, a little misguided but his heart in the best place it had been in a while.

"It's really not a big deal. Don't worry about it, we're doing fine."

Unfortunately for him, Grant wasn't all too good at keeping his feelings under wraps, and deep down Cait knew _something_ was going on under that layer of indifference. But if her own experiences had taught her anything, it was that you couldn't force feelings out of anyone until they were good and ready, and right now he was far from that. She just hoped he'd tell her before his feelings blew up in both of their faces.

"I trust ya, just remember I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, there's not many people who are willing to listen to my bullshit." 

"Hey what are friends for, eh?"

So off they went, things mended for now, but still wholly unresolved. Grant and Cait's favorite way to solve their problems. 

Well, not their _favorite_ way. Their _favorite_ way was to put a bullet in anything bothering them and today, that thing was a courser. 

To them, fighting was a form of therapy, a release for all the things they couldn't say out loud. Cait didn't have to think about feeling like she wasn't enough when she had a bat in her hand, and Grant didn't have to wonder if his girlfriend really loved him when he was preoccupied with turning the synth in front of him into swiss cheese. They had been doing this for years after all, and it always seemed to work out pretty well. Cait kept herself busy in the Combat Zone by always focusing on the next opponent, the next dose of Psycho, because when she was firmly stuck in the present, there was no time to think about her miserable, lonely past and future. Grant did the same once he escaped the Vault, joining every damn faction the Commonwealth had to offer and taking every chem Chem-I-Care had on hand. After 6 months of constant fighting and dosing, he was exhausted, burnt out beyond belief, but he refused to stop, becuase the vices he had turned to were easier to manage than facing the reason he had ever turned to them in the first place. Since then, he had quit huffing Jet and Psycho after discovering they made him jittery, but here he was, still fighting ruthlessly just to escape talking about the problems arising in his life. 

Turning to a vice to escape the real problem.

He knew it was a temporary solution and that just like Nora and Shaun's death, he'd have to face their problems head-on someday. He just couldn't have expected how soon that day would come.

===

"That Courser was a piece of cake." Cait chuckled, tossing her bat onto the couch. "Hell, I've ended tougher guys in the Combat Zone with me bare hands." 

"Yeah," Grant yawned, "but I'm still tired as hell. I'm going straight to bed if you don't mind."

"Go right ahead, I know how much you need your beauty sleep." 

Cold beer in hand, she watched as he immediately collapsed onto their bed, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. She couldn't understand how that guy was the same man who closed down the Third Rail with her immediately after killing a pair of deathclaws with his bare hands. Grant was sure one weird dude. 

After she finished her beer, she headed back in to join her sleeping beauty. Sure it was way earlier than she was used to but she knew damn well that it would be hours before she was actually asleep anyway. Cait sat down on the edge of the bed he was on, working quickly to take her boots off and get settled on the creaky mattress. She was extra careful not to wake him up, enjoying the fact that he was sleeping peacefully for once. Situating herself on the mattress, she crossed her hands over her stomach, eventually turning her head to the side and watching him breathe slowly. Taking a deep breath of her own, she quietly spoke, finally ready to say the thing she'd been wanting to say for a damn long time. 

“I’ve never told you this before and I don’t know if I ever will again, but I love you. Even if you’re an arse sometimes."

If only she knew how much heartache would have been saved by telling him that sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters after they got together and our beloved couple are already having relationship issues. Lovely. Does it ever get better? Do they work things out? Where's the sex, insults and heaping dose of sarcasm I mentioned after Chapter 18? You'll see soon. Very, very soon. See you guys next Wednesday!


	22. Sex is Overrated Anyway

"Morning gorgeous." Grant muttered, pulling Cait closer to his chest.

"You hintin' for a shag or somethin'?"

"I don't have the energy for another round babe. Not after last night."

"After what you did with the mutfruit, I think I might have pulled a muscle or somethin'." 

"Well, I'd be happy to massage you."

Cait was no stranger to Grant touching her naked body, they'd been doing it every damn night for months now, but something about relinquishing control like that still freaked her the fuck out. She trusted him of course, but this was a perfect opportunity for him to snap her neck, and she absolutely refused to die by massage. 

It took a lot of convincing for her to give up control like that, but eventually she agreed very hesitantly. Once Grant finally got his hands on her, she was nothing more than a redheaded puddle under his touch.

“Holy fuck, ya didn’t tell me ya were that good.” 

A few moments ticked by and somehow Grant knew Cait’s next words before she even opened her mouth to speak them. 

“I wonder what else ya hands are good for, eh?” 

He just rolled his eyes, a little more bothered than he appeared. Look, he loved sex as much as the next guy, really, he was no chaste prude or anything, but for the last couple weeks, it seems all they did was fuck. In the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, on the roof, outside of Corvega, in jail, outside the Dugout Inn, anywhere and anywhere, sex, sex, sex. Sex was great, of course sex was great, but that's all there was. Any attempt to cuddle, hug, or even massage was turned into an excuse to go at it, and he was starting to get sick of it all. All he wanted was to love her, to show her just how much he cared but it was starting to seem as if there was just no opportunity for true intimacy with her. 

He couldn't bring these concerns to her of course, I mean, who was he to complain about great sex? Grant could already hear Cait's taunting and mocking from here.

"Jesus Grant, how'd you get so good at this?" She moaned, sinking further into the mattress.

"It's just something I picked up from married life. Do you know how many fights giving good massages got me out of?"

"Oh really? How many?"

"Well, there was that time I told her I was skipping her OBGYN appointment to watch the World Series. My hands were real sore after that one." He chuckled. "And that time I left the toilet seat up. Oh my God and that time...."

All of his words began to go in one ear and out the other as Cait's mind began wandering. She knew this stuff was all harmless, just old prewar stories, but for some reason, her heart began to sink the more he talked about her. His descriptions of their life together just seemed so perfect, like those cheesy romance songs that played constantly on Diamond City Radio. 

"Oh but that post fight cuddling was the damn best. There was nothing like feeling the warmth of her skin on mine. And I think use some of that right about now."  
  
Grant collapsed onto the space next to her, grabbing Cait by the waist and pulling her into his chest.

Her heart rate began to rise as he pulled her closer to his body, thoughts of Nora racing through her mind. Nora seemed damn near perfect from what he'd been telling her, and Cait knew damn well she was anything but. She could never compare to her, not in a million years, and there was no way she was going to put herself in a situation to disappoint him like that. 

She quickly pushed herself on top of him, wasting no time in pleasantries, as she pressed her tongue to the seam of his lips. 

Grant rolled his eyes, mentally chastising himself for even trying this time. Despite the anger pounding in his head and the anxiety pounding in Cait's, they kept going, both of their hands exploring every curve and dip in each other’s bodies. At this point, he could probably write a whole damn book about each one. 

And when all was said and done, the two sat there in the darkness, both panting from exhaustion. But unlike all of their other late night rendezvous, this one felt different, this one felt...empty. Normally, sex with Grant felt like euphoria, like the buzz of a Psycho rush, but tonight felt no different than all the other times she fucked some nameless raider. 

Grant was never one for meaningless sex but it didn't take a genius to know that something wasn't right. The ecstasy he had always felt as he lied in bed post-sex was gone, replaced by this weird hollow feeling. He had never felt this type of emptiness with anyone besides Cait and it was freaking him the fuck out. It was starting to happen to more and more often too, and he couldn't help but feel powerless as he watched the relationship he worked so hard for fall apart in front of his eyes. 

Maybe it was time to call the whole thing quits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but I've got 2 chapters and 2000+ words for you next week and things are about to go down. Grant and Cait have been keeping their feelings under wraps for far too long now and I've got a feeling something is going to happen next week. Maybe they break up, maybe they work out their differences, or maybe you'll just have to come back next Wednesday to find out. See you then!


	23. Faceless Fuck Partner

"Wah goh to head out tah Abernahy Fahm as soon as we canh." Grant mumbled, furiously running a toothbrush around his mouth. "A Radio Freeham broahcast said theh's a kidhapped settler theh."

Cait rolled her eyes and spit the pooled water out, watching as it swirled down the sink. 

"Why the hell are you still bothering to help a bunch of lowlife farmers and settlers for free? Especially after what happened at Back Street Apparel." 

"We've been over this." He moaned. "Do we really have to do a Q and A session every damn time I wanna help Preston out?"

"No, we don't. Just keep orderin' me like hired help, and I'll just follow like the cute little idiot you think I am."

"Oh my God, are you being serious right now? Are you seriously accusing me of thinking you're an idiot just because I don't feel like saying the same thing over and over?"

"Maybe if you weren't such a patronizin' son of a bitch I wouldn't have to accuse you of that."

"You know what?" Grant yelled, drops of spit flying out of his mouth. 

Just as he was preparing to unleash a fury of disparaging comments on her, he stopped, letting go of the fists he didn't even know were clenched. They had been fighting for days now and he honestly felt like his throat would give out if he got into another screaming match with her. He had learned it was better to let her anger blow over rather than engage with her, especially over something as stupid and trivial as this. The two had too many damn battles to pick this one, so whatever, he'd be the bigger man and he'd let it go this time. 

"I...it doesn't matter. Let's just go have some breakfast."

"Fine. Bacon and eggs sound good to you?"

"Sure." He said with a curt smile, still a little miffed from before. 

But even if he was a little frustrated with her right now, he still loved her. At least enough to force a smile as he choked down her burnt bacon. 

“You don’t have to make that face,” she grumbled, “I know I burnt the hell out of this.”

“No, it’s alright,” he reassured, poking at some blackened flecks of meat, “I don’t mind my bacon extra well done.”

“Grant, you’re as bad a liar as I am a chef.”

“Okay maybe, but I love you enough to lie to you, that’s got to count for something.”

“Yeah sure sure, just shut up and eat your bacon.”

Normally Grant would just sigh at that, and move on to live another day, but today was not a normal day. All the recent arguing combined with today's fight had created an explosive combo, setting off the frustrations he'd been bottling up for the past couple months or so. He had damn near enough with her shit and he was sure as hell going to make it known.

"Alright what the fuck is going on?" Grant asked, slamming his fork onto the dining table.

"What the hell are ya talkin' about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about and I'm not letting it slide anymore!"

Cait's heart's dropped when she heard that. She knew exactly what he was talking about and God did that terrify her. But she still held onto a shred of ignorance, praying he was pissed about something that wasn't so damn hard to fix. Maybe she left her dirty socks lying around again, or maybe she spent too many caps at Commonwealth Weaponry this month, or maybe-

"Cait! Are you even paying attention?"

"Maybe I could pay better attention if I knew what the hell you were mad about." 

"You seriously don't know?" He roared, suddenly rising up from his seat. "You seriously haven't noticed how shitty of a girlfriend you've been? How you've never held my goddamn hand, tell me you've loved me, you know, any of the normal relationship stuff?"

"Really?" She yelled back, inching herself closer and closer to his face. "That's what you're all pissy about? You want your fuckin' hand held?"

"Yeah, it seems to be a monumental fucking task for you!'

"Well I'm fuckin' sorry I can't be your wife!" Cait screamed, a layer of hurt and shame hidden beneath all that volume. "I'm fuckin' sorry I can't give you a picture-perfect life like she did!"

"You know that's not what is it about!"

"Then what is it about? Tell me what the fuck it's about!"

"I just want you to love me okay? That's all I've ever wanted!" 

The silence replaced the deafening screams as Grant began to dwell on Cait's feelings of inadequacy and she dwelled on his feelings of being unloved. The two of them were used to silence, after all, they had spent so many years alone, but they weren't used to this kind. For the first time in their lives, this silence couldn't be defeated with a bottle of whiskey or a loaded gun. Fixing this mess required the two of them to use their biggest weakness: conflict resolution. Neither of them had ever liked talking things out, it was the Commonwealth after all, but for the sake of their relationship, the two had to figure it out. Soon.

"You know that I love you." Cait whispered, her voice nearly inaudible, even in the silence. 

"No I don't. You never act like it, you never want to do anything but have sex."

Eventually, Grant sighed and threw his hands up, eyes devoid of the anger he had only a minute ago.

"You know what, fine. If you want sex, we can have sex. We don't need to date or anything, we can just fuck, no strings attached. Is that what you want?"

Cait sighed and took a hard look at the ground beneath her, biting her lip as she thought about the question at hand. Her whole life she had craved emotionless sex and had gotten used to the feeling of a good fuck and empty bed in the morning. But didn't she spend just as much time trying to escape that loneliness? Yeah Grant was great in bed and she was sure that their little friends with benefits thing would be fucking awesome but that's not what she really wanted, was it? Great meaningless sex could be found in alleyways, bars, practically anywhere drunk, horny men resided. But guys like Grant? Well they were certainly a dying breed. And she knew that the moment she let him go, relegated him to just another faceless fuck partner, she'd never find another like him. She needed a boyfriend more than she needed a lover and if she didn't say something soon, she was about to lose her chance to ever have one. 

There was only one thing she could say to remedy this situation and God, why'd it have to be the one thing she didn't want to say? She had opened up to Grant in the past, told him things she thought she would take to her grave, but this time...this time felt different. It was one thing to tell him about her past, about her slavers and parents, but it was another thing to tell him about her deepest fears, her deepest insecurities. He could destroy her if he wanted to, hurt her deeper than she had ever been hurt before but judging by the look in his eyes, their entire relationship was hanging in the balance.

"Grant, I've been shagging blokes since I was 18. When you do somethin' for that long, you get good at it, ya know? But I've never done any of that girlfriend stuff before, I've never even been in a real relationship. I've never held a hand, or cuddled someone, or told anyone I've loved them. You've been married, you already know how to do this stuff. I don't."

Grant blinked back tears as he looked into the eyes of his girlfriend, hands shaking as he thought about her words. He had been so unfair, hadn't he? It had taken over a year to get her to just trust him and here he was expecting her to be the perfect girlfriend within a few months of them dating. He had heard all the stories of what Stratton had done to her, yet somehow he was still selfish enough to demand she do something she didn't want to. It looked like he had a lot of making up to do.

"I...fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed these huge expectations on you, especially when you're new to all this...and I'm sorry."

"I'm not puttin' all the blame on ya, God knows I'm not as good as your wife-"

"Cait," he interrupted, "I didn't fall in love with you because you were Nora. I fell in love with you because you were the only person who could help me forget the pain of losing her."

The two stared into each other's eyes, sharing a connection they had never felt before. For the first time since they had gotten together, they were on the same wavelength, able to speak to each other without words.

"Grant?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go have some makeup sex?"

He shook his head and laughed, gently grabbing her hands and pulling her into the bedroom.

"Sure babe, sure."


	24. Look At What We've Become

"Sometimes, I don't really think someone like you can love someone like me. And whenever you push me away like that, I think you don't care. I guess affection is my only way of really believing that you still love me and that I haven't fucked it up yet. That's why I care so much about that stuff."

Cait looked over Grant's watery eyes, revealing a side to him she had never seen before. He had been vulnerable in front of her before, revealed some of his inner demons and bits of his painful past, but never like this. When he talked about his late family, his eyes were always glassed over, his voice a little monotone. Like he had become numb to it at this point. But here he was, sat crisscross on their bed, vomiting out his deepest insecurities to her, clearly struggling to keep his tears at bay. She had a feeling no one else in the Commonwealth had seen this side of him either, making this vulnerable moment between the two a little more special.

"Alright well enough with me." Grant sniffled. "Your turn." 

"No way! I never agreed to that, y-"

“No no no.” He interrupted, wagging his finger at her. "You don’t get to make me spill all my emotional shit and not do the same. Now spill.” 

"I already told you everythin' this mornin', didn't I?"

"Not everything. I know there's more sappy emotion shit under all that toughness. Now c'mon, go ahead."

Cait sighed, shaking her head at what she become. Before Grant came along, she'd never dream of doing anything like this. Sitting around and telling anyone else her problems wasn't really her idea of fun. But then again, before him, she never did backrubs or stargazing either but she did now. For him. She supposed she could put her reservations aside for this too.

"Okay, okay...it's like this. After all this time, I still don't understand why you fell in love with someone as screwed up as I am. You're so damn different from me, ya know? You're kind, patient, all the things I'm not. And from what ya tell me, your wife was a lot like you. She was able to make you happy, give ya everythin' you could ever want. I'm startin' to wonder if I can ever do the same for ya."

Grant chuckled a little at that, filling Cait up with red hot anger. Didn't he know how hard it was for her to open up like this? She had to push aside all her fears and break down all her walls to do this for him and now he was laughing at her? But before she could rip him a new one, he grabbed her hands, giving her that stupid, goofy smile that always calmed her down.

"Cait, you do make me happy. Happier than I've been in years. And just being with you is already everything I could ever want. So you don't ever have to worry about that stuff alright? Promise."

How the hell did he do it? How the hell did he manage to calm the storm inside of her with nothing more than a couple sentences? In a matter of seconds, all the fear and worry that had plagued her for so long were gone, replaced by Grant's words of reassurance. For the first time in a while, it looked like things were going to work out alright.

That is, until Grant's eyes widened suddenly, his normally soft grey eyes full of panic.

"What is it?" She asked, praying he wasn't realizing something relationship ruining.

"Oh fuck me!" He cried out, slapping his forehead. "The kidnapped settler! We were supposed to be there hours ago, we gotta get going!"

This time it was Cait's turn to laugh, chuckling as Grant rushed out of the house, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had nothing but his boxers on.

Yeah, things between the two were going to work out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't really think I would split Grant and Cait up so soon, did you? No, that comes later, much later (or does it?) The next chunk of chapters will deliver on the much-anticipated romance aspect of this whole romance fic thing and we'll finally get to see our beloved couple actually acting like a couple. Come back next Wednesday to see it!


	25. Tarberry Frosting All Over the Place

Grant drummed his fingers on the top of the stove, staring intently at the cake currently baking inside the oven. He couldn’t help but mutter curses under his breath, still pissed at himself for sleeping in so late. He was _supposed_ to get up early so he could get the cake ready and wrap her gifts but here he was, still smelling of sex and sweat as he watched his little vanilla cake rise at a snail's pace. 

He swatted a balloon away from his face as he glanced back at the bedroom, praying his sleeping girlfriend would stay asleep for a just a little while longer. Normally he’d be in bed with her, pressing his lips into the back of her neck as she shoved her ass into his groin, but today was not like most days. Today was April 8th and if her slave contract was right, that meant today was also her birthday. 

Turning 27 wasn’t really a huge deal but he’d be damned if Cait wasn’t going to have the best damn birthday ever. He had driven himself crazy trying to prepare for it and he was going to be real damn angry if his secret surprises were blown by this stupidly slow baking cake. Grant was probably the worse liar in the world and the past week had been hell for him. I mean, how were you supposed to convince someone that, no you weren’t being suspicious, just sneaking out every night to a secret place? Don’t even get him started on how hard it was to hide a couple dozen balloons. 

Despite his constant paranoia that Cait would catch him redhanded with a tarberry frosting covered spatula in hand, he managed to finish the cake and had even finished wrapping those awkwardly shaped gifts. 

Now all he had to do was wait. 

He drummed his fingers rapidly on the kitchen table, glancing over at the bedroom door, waiting to see if she would finally stumble out. Grant wasn’t the most patient guy, and after an hour of waiting, he was damn near close to waking her up. He normally would never consider doing such a thing, God knows it was hard enough just to get her asleep in the first place. But the anticipation was beginning to kill him and yes, cake wasn’t meant to be eaten hot, but still. 

===

There was really nothing on earth like waking up from a deep sleep after a night of fucking like a horny Deathclaw. Well, almost nothing. But either way it felt pretty damn good to give Grant the ride of his life. A soft groan escaped Cait’s smiling lips as she stretched her sore limbs, noting the scent of him that lingered in the bed before finally realizing that she was alone and the space next to her had long gone cold. 

“What the fuck?” 

She sat up, blinking away the fog of drowsiness. 

“Grant?” 

There was no answer and the silence tore at her. This had happened to her before of course, but back then Cait didn’t give a rat’s ass anyway. It was preferred actually, saved them from going through the awkwardness of waking up next to a stranger without alcohol or drugs in their system. But Grant? Him fucking her then leaving her made her feel like a used condom. Disgusting. Unmissed. The anger and hurt welled up inside and had her almost punch the damn wall.

“Cait? What’s wrong?”

Her head snapped around to the doorway where he stood, her hands frozen from where she halfway pulled up her pants. 

“So ya fuck me an’ leave me, that it?” She shouted.

“Uh, no.” He stammered. “Quite the opposite actually. Just put your pants on and come see for yourself.”

This better be good, she thought, quickly throwing on a shirt. What could possibly so important that he would voluntarily skip the post-sex cuddling he loved so much?

She stepped out of the bedroom expecting a shotgun to her face or maybe a giant deathclaw on a leash, you never really knew with him. After all, a giant deathclaw would have been less surprising than what she actually did see. How does one prepare to see a shirtless Grant next to a bright red cake and a pile of gifts? 

“Happy birthday Cait.” Grant smiled, flashing her that goofy smile she loved so much.

She took it all in with wide-eyed shock, her mind stammering for words to describe what she was looking at right now.

“You...you did all this for me?”

“No actually, I was a balloon artist in a past life and I just thought it’d be good to get some early morning practice.”

Cait scoffed and pulled him in for a nice, long kiss, reaching down to grab his member.

“Thank you, love.”

Grant turned his head away, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks as well as somewhere down below. 

“Is there a beer in your pocket,” she smirked, “or are ya just excited to see me?”

“I-I um, why don’t you just open your presents?” 

He quickly grabbed one of the bigger boxes on the table and shoved it into her arms, all too happy to talk about something that wasn’t his dick.

Cait ran her hands over the long box, trying to guess what the hell could be inside.

“Oh let me guess, did ya get me a giant dildo?”

“No need for one, I’m right here.” He said with a cocked eyebrow. “Now c’mon, open it up.”

The brawler wasted no time in unwrapping it and paused when she saw what was inside. 

“Ya didn’t...” she whispered to no one in particular, lifting the item up so she could see it better. 

A sleek wooden swatter wrapped with barbed wire lifted from the box in her hands and she stared in stunned awe. 

“Ohh ya fuckin’ did. Jesus. Holy shite.”

“You like it?” He asked, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. “Moe totally ripped me off but for you, no price is too high.”

“I...I can’t believe you got me this, I can’t believe it.” 

“That’s not all, why don’t you check out the other stuff I got you?”

And so she did. Piles of caps, a shiny new shotgun and a little teddy bear with a vault suit. Yeah okay so maybe that last one was a little weird. 

“Where’d you even get this thing?” She questioned, giving the bear a little cursory squeeze.

“Stole it from one of the kids in Vault 81. I know, I know, wicked. But it was just too damn cute not to take.”

Cait’s smile grew even more knowing her lover swiped these from a bunch of unsuspecting dopes. He really was perfect, wasn’t he?

“Well, I’m not really sure what I’m gonna do with this thing, but thank you.” 

“Hmm.” Grant said with puckered lips, lost in fake thought. “Maybe the next time I get up in the morning to pee or something, you snuggle that little guy instead of going apeshit.”

All she could do was roll her eyes and chuck the bear at him, feeling a little foolish for how she had acted this morning. 

“Yeah sure sure, rub it in. Now can we hurry up and eat? This cake smells fuckin’ fantastic.”

“Of course babe. It’s your birthday, your wish is my command.”

“Wish is my command eh? I might have to take you up on that.”

As of now, there was no sex, just two idiots up on the roof, stuffing their faces with cake. As far as birthdays went, this one was pretty damn good. At least a thousand times better than every other one she’d had, that’s for sure. She thought back to her 26th birthday, if you can even call it that and remembered just how miserable she was. Tommy tried his best to make that day special but his best was, well, pretty pathetic. He thought it’d be a good gift to pit Cait against the toughest raiders, so she “could make a good amount of birthday caps” or some bullshit like that. All it really meant was that at the end of the day, she was so bloodied and bruised that she couldn’t even enjoy the Fancy Lad Snack Cakes Tommy tossed her way. Yeah, she didn’t have much fun last year.

But throughout the whole thing, she couldn’t feel this weird warmth in her chest, something she’d never felt before in her life. It was better than any Psycho rush or beer buzz, and she couldn’t put her finger on what the hell it was. She was never good with these types of things and it would be idiotic to think she would suddenly get it now. So instead of thinking about that stupid feeling crap, she turned attention to the ice-cold glass of whiskey in her hand and the impossibly handsome, shirtless Vault Dweller in the seat besides her. 

“Grant?” 

“Yeah babe?”

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you were the one to stumble into the Combat Zone?”

“Why?” He questioned. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of other guys in the Commonwealth who could have killed those raiders.”

“Sure, but if anyone else did, I wouldn’t be travelin’ with me best friend.” 

“That cake must of gone to your head.” He muttered, fighting to keep that ear to ear smile he felt coming on hidden. 

Cait was never the romantic type, and at this point, he knew he’d be a fool to expect a love note or flowers from her. So any outward sign of affection like this was enough to make him do a double take.  
  
“It’s not just the sugar talkin’. I really do mean it.”

“I know you do. You’re my best friend too.” He smiled, taking her hand into his. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, at your side.”

When she heard those words, that weird feeling in her chest came back, the warm thing. She couldn’t help but blush, the red in her cheeks nearly the same color as her fiery red hair. It was crazy what a couple words from Grant could do to her.

“Need a bandage for that bleedin’ heart?” She joked, secretly loving every word that came from his mouth. 

“Yeah alright alright, I get it. But how about we take this to the bedroom and do some more than just friend stuff?”

Best birthday ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could really use some tarberry cake right about now. Are tarberries even a real thing? 
> 
> Anyway, how was that? A glimpse at a what Grant and Cait romance could be if they would just stop yelling all the damn time. Can they keep this conflict-free thing up? 
> 
> You'll see. Maybe. 
> 
> See you next Wednesday!


	26. Gal Pals...I Guess

Cait inhaled deeply, her closed fist only a couple inches away from the weathered red door of Publik Occurrences. It was unbelievable that she was actually fucking doing this, so damn unbelievable that she was having a hard time even convincing _herself_ of it. She had never asked anyone for advice in her whole life, especially from people she barely knew, but today she was desperate, damn desperate. As much as she hated the thought of having to ask someone for relationship advice, it was for Grant, and there was literally nothing she'd wouldn't do for him. So no matter how much she had to grit her teeth and bear the embarrassment bubbling inside, she was going to do it. For him.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

She looked at the door as if she was trying to use laser-focused stare to burn the whole thing down, growing more and more impatient with each passing second. It was hardly long before she became convinced that the whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe she ought to just go home and find the answer to her problems in the bottom of a bottle, you know, her usual plan. But just as she was about to leave, the door swung open, and with it, a panting Piper, black stuff smeared on her face. 

"Oh God." Cait moaned. "Don't tell me you were in the middle of shaggin' someone."

"What? No! I was just fixing the printer press. Jeez Cait, you really need to get your mind out of the gutter." 

"Not till the day I'm dead." She fired back.

"Yeah that's what I thought. Anyway, what brings you here? I assume you don't need anything proofread?"

"Are ya daft? I just need some advice from ya."

"That's...even more surprising." Piper stammered, hardly believing the words she had just heard. "For what?"

"I'll explain everything later. Now, you goin' to keep askin' me stupid questions, or can I come inside?" 

"The things I'll do for a headline...fine, come on in."

Cait immediately collapsed onto the yellow couch and kicked her feet up, which seemed to piss Piper off as much as it did Grant on the first day they met. 

"Seems like common courtesy died when the bombs fell." She grumbled under her breath. "Fine, talk, though I'm not sure I wanna hear what you have to say."

Cait stared blankly at the space in front of her, pondering how to phrase her problem in the least humiliating way possible. Asking a stranger for relationship advice had to be the most embarrassing thing a person could go through, but she was hoping that she could at least _try_ to be subtle and not end up looking like a complete fool. As she searched for the words, she looked up at the ceiling.

"Didn't Grant fix the roof for you last year? It's already got a couple cracks in it."

"Great, I'll remember never to contract him for roof repair ever again. Now do you plan on telling me what you need or do I need to squeeze it out of you?"

"Okay, okay...it's like this. Me and Grant have been datin' for a little while now, and being with him is making me realize that I've got no clue how to do any of the relationship stuff that he does. So-"

"So you've come to ask how to be all soft like him?"

Way to be subtle Cait. Fucking nailed it.

"Yeah, I guess ya could put it like that." She sighed. "So, how do I do it?"

Piper sighed and grabbed a cigarette from the carton on her desk, lighting it and watching the smoke swirl around the room.

"You don't have to be like Grant to make him happy, Cait. You just have to put some effort in."

"Oh that's a great idea, genius. Just try. Why haven't I thought of doin' that before?"

"Will you let me finish?" She scolded, waving the smoke out of her face. "Grant is...well he's not like anyone else you'll find in the Commonwealth, that's for sure. He doesn't just tell you that he loves you like a normal person. Instead, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to cook up your favorite meal, just because. He doesn't tell you that he thinks you're his world, but he'll look at you with those eyes that say it all. And when you break his heart, he'll never tell you how badly you hurt him, instead, he'll just give you that sad little smirk, like he's trying to keep it together for your sake."

Cait watched as Piper's gaze drifted up, her eyes glazed over in a sorrowful kind of way. She had that same look the raiders at the Combat Zone had, the ones who placed no bets, said no words and just sat there wallowing in their own misery, lukewarm beer in hand. Eventually, she seemed to snap out of her contemplation and turned her attention back to the actual issue at hand.

"Uh, anyway, you need to let him know that you care about him, and whether that's through words or actions is up to you."

For Cait, that was easier said than done, but she knew Piper was right. Grant was always finding a new way to show her just how much she meant to him, whether it was waking her up with a couple soft kisses or throwing her a whole damn birthday party. No matter what, for better or for worse, she always knew he loved her more than anything. Maybe she'd never get that soft and mushy on him, but hell, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

"Yeah alright. What kind of words and actions are we talkin' about?"

"Well you can't get any more literal than an "I love you", but like I said, Grant's always been an affectionate guy, he's big on all that cheesy romantic stuff, you know?"

"Why couldn't he just be happy with some sex and a free round?" Cait muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

"He's the Sole Survivor Cait. People buy him free drinks all the time and most women in the Commonwealth would sell their souls just to have him in their bed for a night. He's tired of people treating him like some celebrity. All he really wants is a real emotional connection with someone."

Tired? That sounded like a goddamn dream to her. Free whiskey and choice pickings of which bloke she wanted to shag every night sounded as close to heaven as she would ever get. But even though she couldn't understand how anyone could get sick of sex and booze, she understood why he felt like that. She understood because she felt the same damn thing. Deep down, he was lonely. And so was she. And it didn't matter how many sex partners or shots they had put down in front of them, because _nothing_ could fill that sort of emptiness. Nothing besides a good friend who could provide a Psycho buzz with just their presence and warm you up like glass of brandy with nothing but their smile. She knew damn well that Grant was that for her. 

Now she had to be that for him.

"So how do ya do that?"

"Wow, guess I really overestimated your social skills." 

"Whatever made you think I was ever the people pleaser type?" Cait scoffed.

"Fine, my bad, I guess that's what I get for assuming the best in people. Anyway, try taking him on a date or something. But, make sure you take him to the right place. One time, I went on a date with a guy who said he was taking me to a trip to the 'Tunnel of Love.' There was not a second."

"You ever have a date in a Combat Zone bathroom? Consider yourself lucky."

"Hoo boy, that sounds...like the worst thing ever. Just steer clear of dark, dirty, foul-smelling places and you'll be good." She chuckled sarcastically. "Look, don't worry too much about this stuff, you must have had done something right to get him in love with you, and there's no reason you can't do that again."

"Thanks. I think I needed that." 

"You got it. If you need any more relationship advice or you want to take me up on that proofreading deal, you come back. Don't be a stranger."  
  
"I'll do my best." 

And with that, Cait went out the door, off to learn how to be romantic.

This... was going to take a while.

Lucky for her, she had a couple days. Grant was currently off with Elder Maxson, on a "confidential, top-secret" mission that she wasn't allowed to see. Knowing Maxson and McKay, they were probably in the middle of the woods or something, jerking off in their suits of power armor. You know boys and their toys.

By the end of the night, she had practically cleaned out all the booze in the fridge, and not only did she have one hell of a headache, but she also had the perfect plan, a date idea that could rival Grant's. All she had to do was wait for him to come back.

===

Grant sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, exhausted from such a brutal week. Searching for the remains of Recon Squad Artemis took a huge toll on his mental state, a cold reminder of what the Commonwealth did to good people. Lucky for him, he had managed to convince Paladin Brandis to return to the Brotherhood and nabbed a pretty sweet laser rifle in the process. The shiny new gun was pretty cool and all, but what he was _really_ looking forward to was seeing Cait again. After having her by his side everyday for over a year, he had gotten used to her presence, and it wasn't until she was gone, replaced by a brooding Maxson, that he really realized how much she meant to him. God he couldn't wait to see her.

That is, until, he saw her march up to him. 

He forced down a gulp as he racked his brain for things he could have done to piss her off like this. Maybe he forgot to do the dishes or left the toilet seat up again. Whatever it was, it had to be pretty damn bad.

So you can only imagine his surprise when she grabbed him by his waist and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. He was damn lucky Cait had her arms wrapped tightly around him or he might have toppled over right then and there.

"Hi love." She whispered, the smell of whiskey still lingering on her lips.

"Hi." Grant whispered back.

"Come on, darlin'," she smiled, pulling him by the hand, "I've got somethin' planned for ya."

Oh boy. Most of Cait's plans involved a whole lot of trespassing, murder, or theft. Usually all of the above. He could only imagine what she had in store for him. 

"Wh-"

Grant's words were stolen right from his mouth upon seeing what Cait had done to the place. Dozens of little candles lit up the otherwise dim room, illuminating the little flower petals scattered on every surface in the house.

"You...I...wh-" He stammered, searching for the words to describe the feelings swirling around in his brain. 

"Hungry?" She asked, jerking her head over at the prepared food and drinks on top of the dinner table.

"Starving." He smiled.

Grant stared blankly at the steak in front of him, hardly believing what was happening. A steak dinner, hubflower petals, candles, fruit cocktails, this was _so_ goddamn romantic. And _so_ uncharacteristic of her. What the hell happened while he was gone? 

"This...I...."

"I don't think you've managed to say a single full sentence since you've been back. Don't tell me Elder Maxson took out your voice box or somethin'."

"No, I just...this is so perfect. You did all this for me?"

"When's the last time I've cooked for fun?" She asked with a teasing smile and cocked eyebrow. 

"Heh, I guess you're right." He responded, shoving a forkful of meat in his mouth. 

For what seemed like the billionth time tonight, all of his words disappeared the moment he set that fork in his mouth, once again blown away by Cait's abilities.

"Babe, this is the best damn thing I've ever eaten. What is it?"

"Deathclaw steak. Same thing you made me the first day we met."

In that moment, all the feelings that had been swirling in Grant's mind: confusion, flattery, lust, even more confusion, all consolidated into one overwhelming wave of love. 

So as the two shared a night of cheesy flirting, longing glances and tight snuggles, there was absolutely no doubt in either of their minds that this was the one.

The one they were meant to be with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post today, but I hope you guys are enjoying the romance so far!


	27. Grant Jr

"Ya feel like telling me where we're going?"

"Nope." He smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Gimme a clue. Or at least tell me what the hell you're hiding in that thing."

Grant scoffed and pulled the bag closer to his chest, rolling his eyes at her request.

"What part of 'surprise date' didn't you understand?"

"There ya go again with the surprises. Can't ya ever be predictable?"

"I can do predictable." He affirmed. "I predict that later tonight, I'm gonna cook up your favorite meal, and you're going to wear that shirt I love, then I'm going to pull you into the bedroom and we're going to have mindblowing sex."

"Oh, I like it when ya get cheeky, love." Cait grinned, giving him _that_ look.

“Oh c’mon that's not fair babe. You can't just give me that look whenever you want, it holds too much power."

"Power?" 

"Yes, power. One look from you makes my insides all tingly and gets Grant Jr all excited."

"Ya really call your dick Grant Jr? Because if ya ask me, its a lot bigger than Jr."

Grant's eyes went wide when he heard that, mouth dropping in shock. How Cait had the balls to talk about his dick in public was beyond him.

"You...I...that's not fair, you can't do that to me!"

"You started it, didn't ya?"

"Well...yeah." He admitted. "But playing the dick card is a bit overkill, dontcha think?"

"Playing dirty is what I do best darlin'. Now are we almost there? I'm starvin'."

"Yeah, it's just up ahead."

Grant pointed at the space a little ways up, a small hill with a couple rocks littered on it.

"Wait, that's yer surprise? Ya made me walk all the way to the middle of nowhere for a little lump of dirt?"

"A lump of dirt and... mirelurk sandwiches." He smiled, collapsing onto the grass.

"Mirelurk?" She groaned. "It's like ya don't even know me."

"There's nothing wrong with mirelurk okay? Now stop complaining and come enjoy some lukewarm beer with me." 

"Fine but just remember that I like radstag next time ya drag me out in this heat. Pass me the booze.”

Grant tossed a sandwich into her lap along with a beer, quickly shoving his own food into his mouth.

“Mmm sat’s naah bah.” He murmured happily.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk with food in your mouth?” 

“Noh buh yuh noh yuh mah han I-“ He stopped and swallowed the piece of mirelurk. “Spent a whole lot of time with our tongues in each other’s mouth. 

Grant blurted the witty comeback before he could even think, eyes widening once he realized what he had just said.

"Oh, I uh, I'm sorry, I didn't even-"

"Don't get yer panties in a bunch McKay, that was a good one. You should try that one on Danse."

“Heh, I can almost hear him now: ‘I hardly think that would be appropriate, soldier.’”

“He’s one weird sonvuabitch, that’s for sure.” Cait smirked, cracking open her beer. 

Her boastful expression dropped as soon as she took a sip. 

“God!” She spat. “It’s like shaggin' on a boat!” 

“Its that good?

“No, its fuckin’ close to water.”

Grant laughed and raised his own beer in the air, clinking it against Cait’s. 

“To shit beer and good sex.”

“I’ll cheers to that.”

The two turned back to the view ahead of them, enjoying the peace and quiet they had right now. It wasn’t like this was some rare thing or anything, in fact, since they started dating, they had been living a whole lot quieter than before. Cait never questioned why it changed but subconsciously Grant knew it was because of her. Up till now, there hadn’t been anything he couldn’t leave behind, but now? Well now, he had the whole world in his hands and he couldn’t afford to lose her. And as he leaned back in the grass, he began thinking about the rush of battle, and how long he had spent chasing it. But he didn’t really miss it now. At least, not very much. Because now he had something better. 

He had her.

And she was enough. 

“What are ya starin’ at handsome?”

“My whole world.”

Cait quickly turned away, desperately trying to hide her reddening face and the mile-wide smile that was slowly starting to form. 

“Well, aren’t ya a sweetheart? Ya know, I hate admitting it but I’m actually enjoying myself up here.”

“Ha, lump of dirt ain’t so bad now huh? I’ve got something else for you though, come on.”

“Did ya get me another little teddy bear?”

“Better.”

“‘Nother shotgun or something?”

“Better.”

“A coup-“

“Hand me the bang and I’ll explain.”

Cait tossed the bag into his chest, wondering why the damn thing was clinking so damn much. What the hell could he be keeping in there? She watched intensely, hoping it was a weapon of mass destruction or some explosives.

Her eyes lit up upon seeing him pull out a couple dozen beer bottles, only to deflate once she saw they were all empty.

“Now what the hell are we supposed ta do with a bunch of empty bottles?”

“Set ‘em up over there and I’ll show you.”

“I’m on it, cap’in.”

Cait grumbled and took the bottles into her arms, hesitantly trotting over to the neighboring hill. A couple months ago, she would have protested, asked him what the hell he was doing and demanded an answer. But Grant was a man of surprises and now she knew better than to bother asking. 

“Alright, what the hell are we doin’ now?”

“Up for a little bit of target practice?” Grant said with a mischievous grin, tossing his rifle in his hands. 

“Now you’re talkin’.”

===

_*BAM*_

"Bullseye baby, wooooo! 8 out of 10, top that!

Cait rolled her eyes playfully and grabbed her rifle, giving her boyfriend a playful shove before setting her sight on her target. Ten beer bottles sat perched on the neighboring hill, just waiting to be shattered. 

"Not bad McKay. But I've got a question for ya."

"What is it?" Grant scoffed, still high off his bottle shooting adrenaline rush.

Cait turned towards the target, pointing her rifle at the lined up bottles. She aimed, the world shrinking to no more than what she could see out of her rifle’s sight, feeling nothing but the weight of the weapon in her hand. Inhaling deeply, she steadied her gun as time slowed to a crawl, the wind reducing to a whisper in comparison to her own rushing heartbeat. 

_*BAM*_

Grant watched in awe as she knocked down bottle after bottle, firing as methodically as Cait possibly could. After all this time together, she still managed to amaze him each and every day. Sometimes it was with her unexpected gentleness, sometimes it was how unbelievably good she was in bed, but today? Well today it was her ability to shoot down bottles. 

Goddamn, he loved that woman. 

By the time Grant snapped out of his loving trance, the line of bottles that were just there had already been reduced to nothing but shards of broken glass.

Damn.

"My question was," Cait taunted, "how's it feel gettin' yer ass kicked by a girl?"

He sighed and threw his hands up, reluctantly admitting his defeat. 

“Fine, fine, you win. But you know that I’m the real winner here.”

“I outshot your ass by 2 bottles, how the hell are ya a winner?”

“I’ve got you now babe,” he murmured shyly, “I’m always winning.”

You think at this point Cait would have gotten used to Grant’s decelerations of romance but here she was, still blushing like a little schoolgirl. 

The things he did to her. 

“Ya know, I’m happy ya dragged me out here.”

“So am I darling." He smiled, eyes locked onto the sea-green eyes of the love of his life. "So am I.”


	28. Damn Synth

"War never changes."

"You're gonna knock them dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight honey."

"You think?" 

"Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror."

"Right."

===

"Confirmed reports...I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations In New York and Pennsylvania. My God."

"Oh my God!"

"We need to get to the vault! Now!"

"I've got Shaun. Let's go!"

===

"Almost there, we're gonna be okay. I love you, both of you."

"We love you too."

_*BOOM*_

"Oh my God!"

"Hold on!"

===

"Just step inside and put your vault suit on."

"Shaun's acting up. Hon, could you help me?"

"Who's my little guy? I'm not going far. I'll just be over there."

"There he is, see? Daddy's not going far."

===

"Open it."

"Is it over? A-are we okay?"

"Almost. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Come here...come here, baby."

"No no, I've got him."

"Let the boy go. I'm only gonna tell you once!"

"I'm not giving you Shaun!"

_*BAM!*_

===

Grant's eyes shot open, his entire body coming alive with a jolt. He took a couple seconds to get used to the pitch-black darkness, his eyes fighting to make out the bright green numbers on the clock next to him. 

4:06 AM. 

That nightmare. That same fucking nightmare that had plagued him for years. The same nightmare that had driven him to alcoholism, chem abuse, to deadly fear of the night. He didn't know when that nightmare would hit, when his mind would replay the worst day of his life in painstaking detail. He tried breaking out of the loop, tried to prevent the thing he knew had to happen, but it didn't matter. Every single nightmare ended the same way, with the same result. A bullet in the head of his beloved wife. Her body lying limp in that cryo vault. His wife dead and his son taken. 

There was no damn way he was going back up to sleep after that, no matter how hard he tried. Countless nights spent crying alone in bed had taught him that the hard way. He knew that the only solution to his current problem was an ice-cold beer and a nice view on the roof. 

He began to wiggle out of Cait's grip but before he could, he felt some sort of resistance. Looking down, he saw that she had tightened her grip on him, hand firmly gripping his side. 

"Mmm...it's okay, I'm...I'm here." 

"Shh, go back to sleep babe. It's okay."

"Stay." She insisted, pressing her groin to his ass and leisurely running her hand along his body, feeling up his biceps.

"Cait, if you want me to fall back asleep, turning me on isn't the way to do it."

She slowly sat up, trying to rub the tired out of her eyes.

"Fine." She yawned. "Let's go up to the roof."

"No no no, go back to sleep. It's okay, I-"

"I'm already awake, there's no goin' back now."

He sighed and grabbed her hand, pissed off at himself for waking her up. Cait _never_ got a sound night of sleep, and he knew that her sleeping till 4 am was already a goddamn miracle. But he also knew that she was the stubbornest motherfucker around and that she was _not_ giving in. 

"Alright. Can you grab a couple beers?"

"Sure thing."

===

Cait watched as Grant stared blankly at the space in front of him, his unopened cold beer, now lukewarm at best. He seemed so out of it, gone even though he was sitting less than 2 feet away from her. She had seen him after nightmares before, and he always seemed a little weary, but today was unlike anything she had seen from him before. A cold beer and a couple rounds of teasing wasn't going to fix it.

"Grant, what's the matter?"

Radio silence.

Now, this was _really_ strange. Whenever Grant was emotional, whether it was angry or depressed, he always talked. Profanities, insults, she didn't care at this point, as long as he said _something_.

"Fine, ignore me. See if I care."

So he ignored her.

And she cared.

"Are ya seriously goin' ta spend the whole night sayin' and starin' at nothing like a damn synth?"

No response.

"Fine, I'm goin' to bed. We'll wait until _you're_ good and ready."

Dead silence. 

Cait stomped her way downstairs to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. If he didn't want to tell her what was wrong, fine, he could go talk to stars for all she cared. But after a couple minutes of pouting and crossing her arms like a petulant teenager, she sighed, realizing she was being nothing but a pain in the ass. Maybe he was dead set on doing his best Statue of David impression, but he was hurting, and he shouldn't have to hurt alone. He had never left her alone in her suffering and she needed to do the same for him.

So she met him back on the roof, grabbing her lawn chair and setting it right next to his. With a surprising gentleness, she took his hand, ignoring his questionable glances as she tightened her grip on him.

It was finally her time to remain quiet, but unlike past periods of silence, it wasn't done out of anger or pettiness, but in waiting. Waiting for her boyfriend to be ready, the way he had always waited for her. And it was silent for a while, nothing but the humming of the city below them. And that was okay. No grand speeches, no jokes, nothing. Just each other, just the two of them, hands intertwined, up on the roof, lying in wait. 

They ended up waiting for a while, until Grant turned away from whatever he was looking at and turned to her. He looked into Cait's sea-green eyes with his own bloodshot ones, her gorgeous moonlit face examining his splotchy one. And soon after, out of the dead silence of the night, came a choked sob, the outspoken pain of a broken man. His initial stoicism was now gone, shattered into a million pieces, leaving his raw, broken heart open to his entire world. Grant buried his head into the crook of Cait's neck, soaking her shirt with the bottled up tears from over 200 years ago.

She knew there were no words to heal his sorrow right now, no words that could heal his pain, so she didn't try. All she had to offer him right now was a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on and that was all he needed right now. 

That was enough. 

Eventually, after a couple minutes of deep, cathartic wailing, he peeked his head up, silent again. And it was only then that he found the words, the only words that could fit a situation like this.

"I love you." He croaked through trembling lips, barely keeping it together.

In that moment, Cait heard something in those words she had never before. Although she always appreciated him saying that, it had always seemed like something of a formality, one of those obligations that came with a relationship. But in this moment, she heard a rawness in those three words, a truth she had never quite understood. She knew that 'I love you' held everything Grant had to offer her: his soul, his life, his love. 

And it was her turn to shatter.

The paranoia and the pain that had come from her past crumbled and left underneath was the scared little girl inside, the one who just wanted to love and be loved. Those little three words, the ones that didn't really matter to her before, were enough to push away the hurt of her parents, her slavers, and Stratton, just for a moment. 

And a moment was enough.

A moment was all she needed to give her everything to him, packaged in those words. 

"I love you too."

And when dawn broke through the Commonwealth, they were still silent, the pieces of their past lives left shattered, never to fully return.


	29. Dumb Hat

"Another settlement has sent word that they need our help. I'll mark the location on your map."

Both of them rolled their eyes at that, letting out a synchronized deep sigh. Cait had a theory a while ago, back when she first met Preston, that he was secretly a synth, programmed by the Institute to drive everyone on the surface crazy by repeating the same damn line over and over. Back then Grant only laughed at that seemingly outlandish conspiracy theory but as time went on, he couldn't help but realize it made a whole lot of sense. Somedays he fantasized about popping a cap into Preston's head and finding out once and for all if it was true. 

Ah well, one could dream.

"Is this really necessary? I feel like I've been running all over the Commonwealth recently."

"Our work is never done general. It's what we signed up for."

"I never signed up for this shite yet I'm still runnin' around doin' all your dirty work, aren't I? I never even got one of those cute little hats."

"Helping these settlements is how we're going to take back the Commonwealth - one small victory at a time. One of these days you'll finally realize that the world doesn't revolve around you, Cait."

"And one day you'll realize you're nothin' more than a little kid with a stupid fantasy of savin' the world and that your dumb hat and fake army won't do shite for ya when the real-"

"Ahem." Grant coughed, trying to diffuse this incredibly tense situation. "Babe, we should get going."

"Yeah, let's get the hell movin' before I do somethin' I'll regret."

He let out an audible sigh of relief as the two walked out of the crumbled walls of the Castle, glad to rid of that mess. Preston and Cait had been butting heads since the day they had met, but things seemed to be getting worse as Cait lost her passive-aggressive tone and just became outright aggressive towards him. He supposed that's just what happened when you mixed a selfless do-goooder with someone who prioritized their survival over everyone and anyone else. Initially, he hoped the two could put aside their differences and at least _pretend_ to get along for his sake but it sounded like wishful thinking at this point.

"So are we actually going to help that settlement out?" 

"Of course we are. Preston might be a little bit of a tool but those settlers didn't do anything wrong. Plus, I've got half a mind to beat in some Gunner skulls and I'll take any chance I've got to do so."

"Oh, I like it when you get cheeky, love."

===

"Yes ma'am, we can take care of those Gunners for you." He said through gritted teeth, desperately trying to keep his professionalism for the sake of the Minutemen.

"Are you positive? These aren't your ordinary Gunner guys, their leader, Clint, he's a real..."

Blood began to dribble from his bottom lip as the settler continued to ramble on, Grant doing everything in his power to keep silent, even as Cait tightened her grasp on his ass. He looked back and saw that mischievous glint in her eyes, seemingly well aware that she was damn close to breaking him. It only made him bite down harder, the slow drip soon turning into a steady trickle. If this settler didn't shut up and finish her story soon, he was going to end up looking like Dracula. 

"And get this, they're up on the overpass, which means they can see you coming from miles away, I bet..."

He clenched his fist and let go of his bottom lip, quickly licking the blood off his chin. You know, this wasn't as bad as he thought. In fact, he was kinda enjoying the feeling of her touch, and even better, he was really enjoying that smug satisfaction of knowing he had bested his ultra-competitive companion. But when he turned to flash her a shit-eating grin, he was met with an even bigger one, followed by the feeling of her hand slipping past his waistband elastic, then her skin on hi-

"Ohhh." He moaned, stopping the settler's prattle in its place. "Um, I mean oh, that's good info. I think we have all the intel we need though, thanks for your help."

"Are you sure? Like I said, these gu-"

"Yup I'm sure! See ya!"

Grant sprinted the hell out of there, refusing to stop until he was far out of the settler's line of sight. Even though he was more than half a mile down the road, his eyes still darted around, making sure no one could see how visibly flustered he was. 

"What's the matter general?" Cait taunted. "You're lookin' a little flushed."

He looked up at her in anger, that fury eventually softening into a playful exasperation. God that girl drove him crazy and he loved it. 

"You're an asshole, you know that? Such an asshole."

"Yeah, but ya know ya love me."

"I do love you." He chuckled. "But I'm also getting my revenge. Soon."

"Is this 'revenge' happenin' before or after we beat down the Gunners?"

"You'll see. Now c'mon, let's go."

===

The two trekked up the Freeway Stronghold bridge, trying to ignore all the crumbling concrete surrounding them.

"You sure it's safe for us to be walkin' up here?" 

"It's about as safe as the two of us charging towards a group of angry Gunners. So no."

"Great." She sighed. "Today's the perfect day to get crushed by a prewar car."

They eventually made their way up to the second story, home to about 30 Gunners, all ready to reduce the duo into nothing but flaming ash. Too bad they'd never get the chance.

"Is that supposed to be Clint?" He whispered. "Why the hell is he wearing a Minutemen hat?"

"I dunno, but I think it looks even stupider on him than Preston. We ought to take it off of him."

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't we have a little fun? First one to knock that dumb hat off his head gets a free round at Dugout."

"Oh you're on." He smiled. "So fucking on."

The two entered guns blazing, the only way they knew how. Gunners were always a pain in the ass to deal with, especially when they came in groups as large as this, but Grant and Cait had never been bested in combat when they were together and today was not the day that changed. But today wasn't the same as most others. Today, they had something on the line, something far more valuable than just their lives. 

Free booze.

Neither Grant or Cait ever gave up when wanted something, and by God, they were sure as hell going to get Clint's dumb hat. And as the crowd began to thin out, their attention started to turn away from the other Gunners and towards bragging rights and the promise of free drinks. And after that little stunt Cait pulled this morning, he was more inclined than ever. Maybe a little too inclined. 

It wasn't long until the other 29 Gunners had been taken out of the equation, leaving no one but Mr. Clint himself. He however, was a far more formidable opponent than his dead counterparts and was making the path to the hat a whole lot harder.

"You've got a can opener?" Cait asked, firing her shotgun into his power armor. "This bloke isn't going down!"

"No, but I'm about to get his hat!"

With Clint's attention turned towards his red-headed companion, he saw a perfect opportunity to snatch that lid right off his head and claim his free drinks. Tucking his gun into his holster, he took off, running straight towards the armored Gunner with zero regard for his own life. In one fell swoop, he plucked the thing right off Clint's head, falling onto the concrete right after. 

The initial rush of victory faded once he found himself staring down the wrong end of a gun.

Grant tried to roll away and escape, but he soon found his ankle trapped under Clint's giant metal boot. He refused to go down without a fight though, turning his head to the side and dodging the laser shot that fired near his ears. There was no way he could keep this jig up for much longer though, there was only so long he could dodge before Clint gave up and fired a shot into his chest. 

Was this the end? Was he really about to die for a hat?

Of course he wasn't. It was Grant McKay after all, the goddamn Sole Survivor. He could be strung up by his underwear on a 20 foot pole, hands and legs bounded, surrounded by hungry mongrels and super mutants and he'd _still_ find a way to end up on top. Sometimes it was the grace of God, sometimes it was sheer dumb luck, but more often than not it was through his secret superpower of Cait. 

Today, when he found himself lying helplessly on the concrete, staring down the barrel of a laser rifle, he knew he needed a force greater than God or good fortune on his side. And when the gun being waved in his face fell to the concrete, and Clint's body began to fall forward, he knew it wasn't God or luck who came in to save the day, but rather the redheaded tornado known as Cait. 

He rolled out of the way, watching the giant robo man crash into the floor, then turning his eyes to his savior. They stared at each other for a couple seconds, each of them dealing with the fact that they had just escaped death for what seemed like the billionth time today. Grant stood up and laughed, moving in to pull her into a tight bear hug. But before he could even wrap his arms around her, he was pushed away. 

"What the fuck were you thinkin' Grant? What the actual fuck were you thinkin'?" Cait yelled, her face nearly as red as her hair.

"I got the hat didn't I?" He taunted, oblivious to the rage building up in her chest. "Why are you pissed?"

"You grabbed a hat off a Gunner boss, you fuckin' moron, you could have died!"

"But I didn't. I'm fine Cait, there's not a damn scratch on m-"

"That's not the point!"

"Then tell me what the point is bec-"

"I could have lost you! I could have fuckin' lost you forever Grant, alright?"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard that, taking a deep look into her eyes. It was only then that he saw what was really going on, the things he had missed before. That wasn't fury burning up in her sea of green, it was fear. A deep fear he hadn't ever seen from her before. Him being in danger like that had scared her half to death, didn't it? 

"I...I'm sorry babe. I'm sorry. I'll stop fighting so recklessly alright? Promise."

And it was only then that she allowed him to pull her in for a hug, enjoying a rare tender moment together. Cait struggled to keep her emotions at bay as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, trying so desperately not to cry in this moment. It wasn't easy seeing your loved one nearly killed, and it was even harder when it happened as often than it did with Grant. But if life and this relationship, had ever taught her anything, it was that nothing ever came easy. Especially when you were dating a man like him.

"You still owe me that round though."

"Are you kiddin' me?" She scoffed. "I just saved your goddamn life, you're the one buyin' tonight."

"Hey, a deal is a deal."

"Ugh." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "How about I'll get the first round and you'll get the second?"

"In what world do we only drink two rounds?"

"Alright, fine fine. We'll alternate rounds, that satisfy you?"

"Perfect." He smiled, placing Clint's hat on his head. 

"You know, as much as I hate that stupid hat, it looks kinda cute on you." 

"What's new?" Grant boasted. "I haven't found a single piece of clothing that doesn't look great on me."

Cait shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully, giving her boyfriend a little shove.

"You're such an arrogant arse, ya know that? I love ya."

"I love you too. Cheapskate."

And so the two walked into Dugout Inn with their hands intertwined, proudly showing off to the world that this person right here, this awful, fucked up person was all theirs and they wouldn't have it any other way.

How it was always meant to be.


	30. For America

"What's the big deal about today again?" Cait asked, setting her cold beer down onto the table.

"Its the 4th of July. American independence day."

"Independence? From what, their own stupidity?"

"No, from the British. God Cait, were you paying _any_ attention when I took you to the Museum of Freedom?"

"I was too busy playin' with the mannequins with the funny hats to listen to your history lesson. Besides, it's pointless, you Americans have too many damn holidays for me to remember. Flag Day, President's Day, Independence Day, they're all the same damn thing."

"I'm not complaining. I'll take any chance I get to fire up the grill and launch a few fireworks."

"You tellin' me that Cram and a couple of grenades aren't enough for ya?"

"Well most of the time, sure. But it's nice to have one day like this. It just...it brings some sense of normality to this fucked up world. I feel like I'm back in the prewar days."

Grant sighed and turned his head away, cursing himself for even mentioning the prewar days. Just the word was enough to make the memories come flooding back, and along with that came the pain of remembering. There was a period in his life, not long after the Institute fell, when all he could do is remember. He made daily trips to the Memory Den, handing over every cap in his pocket just so he could get a glimpse of what he used to have, a taste of the good life. 

And it was great while it lasted. 

Seeing Nora, Shaun, the town of Sanctuary when it was still intact, it was great. But the moment he sat up from the memory lounger, it was gone, and he was left with a deeper emptiness than when he started. So he stopped. He stopped going to the Memory Den, he stopped remembering, but he never stopped wanting to remember. Even if he didn't really know it. 

And even if his mind was rejecting the notion of remembering those 4th of July days spent with his late wife, his heart had other ideas, and soon he found himself recalling those warm summer afternoons. And there she was, clear as day, in that flowery sundress, laid on that picnic blanket, sipping ice-cold lemonade and watching him grill. And there she was, teasing him about his slowly burning hotdogs, warning him not to bother the Fire Department on a day like today. And there she was, head nestled on his shoulder as the two watched the fireworks dance in the sky.

And there he was, up on the roof, without her. 

Without her smile, her teasing, her kindness, but unlike the past 3 years, he wasn't alone. Cait was here, and while she wasn't Nora and would never be, she was here, with him, and maybe that's all that mattered. 

Maybe he didn't have to act like he was alone anymore. Maybe he could share his past pain with her. 

"Anyway," he continued, "I know the Diamond City pyrotechnics aren't as good as the prewar stuff, but that doesn't mean we can't cook up some kebabs and get stinkin' drunk. It's what America would want, you know?

"Well, it doesn't sound that bad when you put it that way. Now c'mon, let's grab a couple cold beers. For America." 

===

Grant grabbed another helping of radstag meat, finishing off the remnants of his third beer as he did it. 

"This beer's damn good." Cait said as she pressed the brown bottle to her lips. "I never remembered Gwinnett being so smooth."

"That's not any old beer; today it's Bunker Hill Brew and Dead Redcoat Ale."

"Oh ha ha." She said in a deadpan voice, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Aren't ya a funny one?"

"I am! Voted class clown of Concord High School class of 2065, in fact." 

"Ya look more like the most likely to end up in jail honestly."

"Yeah, yeah, you're just jeal-"

* _BOOM_ * 

Grant's eyes shot up to the illuminated sky, following the falling embers of the first explosion of color. Not soon after, another capsule of color cut through the pitch-black sky, lighting up the otherwise dark city. The two of them watched as rocket after rocket was launched, staring in awe at the colored patterns in the sky. 

Cait had never seen anything like it in her entire life, the only explosion she ever knew of were mines, grenades, and nukes, but this...this was gorgeous. There was no bloody aftermath, no flying debris, just illuminated beauty.

Grant had 30 years of fireworks displays under his belt though and even though this one was pretty cool, it wasn't the fireworks that made this 4th of July so special. While Cait was watching the fireworks, all he could focus on was her expressions, and how the lights lit up that gorgeous smile of hers. And when the flurry of fireworks began to slow down, he couldn't help but speak up.

"Somedays, I wish I could just live in moments like these, you know? Forget all the fighting bullshit and just enjoy life with you for once."

"Sounds borin' McKay. You're only 30, why the hell would you retire so soon?"

"I'm just tired." He sighed, letting the weight of 241 years leave his chest. "I've spent 3 damn years fighting nonstop and I'm sick of it."

"You tellin' me you don't have fun blowin' in raider heads?"

"I don't know. For a while I thought I did, but I just realized that fighting, chems, and alcohol don't really make me happy. All of it is just... one big distraction, you know?"

Grant looked back up at the fireworks above him, somewhat scared of how she would react. After all, that wild, fun side was the only reason she fell in love with him in the first place. How could she love him if that was all gone?

"Why didn't you tell me all of this stuff before?" She asked, eyes carefully watching Grant's sullen expression.

"I don't know. Its just... without all that stuff, I'm just another stupid vault dweller." 

Cait looked over at her boyfriend, his face showing something she had never seen in him before. He had always been the sensitive type, but he had never shown doubt like this before. He normally seemed so sure of himself you know, always the charming hero oozing with confidence. But in this moment, he honestly seemed as blubbery and fearful as Travis. What happened to him?

"I get it if you don't want to be together anymore." He murmured, purposely avoiding her gaze. 

"Why the hell would I break things off? We've got something special between us."

"I'm a boring old coward Cait. Why would you stay?"

Cait reached over and grabbed his hand in a rare moment of affection, meeting his gaze of worry with a loving look of her own. 

"Listen to me, love, alright? 'Cause I've never been good with these things and I only want to say this once. Ya loved me back when I was nothin' more than a stupid junkie. No matter how many times I let ya down, ya were always there for me. Ya saved my life and ya saved my soul. So no matter what ya think you are, I'm gonna love ya.”

And that. That was the moment he knew.


	31. Boom.

“Where exactly are we headed?” 

“Guess.”

“A shambler infested sewer? A dusty old bunker? I dunno, you always take me to the nicest places.”

“Are you just going to ignore that time I took you for a long walk on the beach?” 

“Are you goin’ to ignore the fact that we were attacked by mirelurks halfway through?”

Grant tried his damn hardest to think back to that day, but all he could remember was the view of her in the sunlight; the way that ray of sunshine bounced off her face at the perfect angle, illuminating her sea-green eyes and the multitude of freckles dotting her face. He could remember in crystal clear detail that look she had in her eyes right before she pulled him onto the sand, and the way his black and blue bruises ached for weeks afterward.

No memory of the mirelurks though.

"Hey, they were a damn good treat for dinner. You know how hard it is to get drawn butter and fresh lemon in the Commonwealth?" 

"Those mirelurks weren't even my favorite treat from that day." She smirked, giving his ass a nice squeeze.

"Ah okay, okay, don't get me too excited, we have bigger things ahead."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"It's a surprise."

Cait could only grumble at that, frustrated by his lack of transparency, yet somewhat giddy about what it could be. Before him, she hated surprises and it really was no wonder why. The only surprises she ever got with the slavers were surprise beatings and those were no fun. Her new man seemed to love them though and she had to admit, his were a whole lot better. How could she forget the time he surprised her by showing up to dinner naked? Or when he put a live grenade in that Diamond City guard's pocket? She had a feeling this one would be less sexy and bloody though.

"This better be worth it. I'm goin' to pass out if we spend any more time in this heat."

Summers in the Commonwealth were absolute hell, especially at the Combat Zone. The high temperatures would be bad enough, but the shitty ventilation at Tommy's "fine establishment" made her feel as if she was being boiled alive, and don't even mention how awful it was to fight those sweaty ass raiders.

"So you spend a couple weeks in air conditioning and now you can't take a little heat?" He taunted.

"Not sayin' that, just sick of all this humidity."

"Why don't you take off your clothes then?"

"Are you kiddin' me? I'm not that easy."

"Really?" Grant asked, cocking an eyebrow. "If I recall last night correctly, it didn't take too much convincing to get you stripp-"

Cait put her hand on the side of his face, giving his head a nice, hard shove before he could finish his sentence. 

"Well, you weren't exactly being a prude either."

"You make that extremely difficult babe." He smirked.

"Damn right I do."

So down the road they went, off to find their next adventure at... Fallon's department store. Lovely.

"Doin' a little shoppin'? Fine, just make it quick."

Grant bit his lip, trying to conceal the smile creeping onto his face. As lovely as it'd be to go shopping for a new pair of jeans, he had something to retrieve. Something that would forever change his life. 

"Just a little super mutant cleaning. Maxson promised me a new laser rifle if I got this done."

"Well, you ought to expect the worst and keep your stimpaks ready, those brutes pack some serious firepower."

With one swift kick of the leg, the door went in, the attention of the giant brutes now turned to them. Have they mentioned how subtlety is their specialty?

"Ha ha ha ha! Let's play, little human!"

And play they did.

Hordes and hordes of mutants roamed the store, hell, he hadn't seen these many brutes since he was stationed at Fort Strong. These giants seemed a little more capable than their brethren too, refusing to go down without a long, drawn-out fight. 

"Stupid lady!" One of them yelled, bringing the wooden board down on her. "Die!"

"My head... woozy... hard to see..."

Grant immediately brought his shotgun up, aiming the sight directly at the super mutant's head. Not that there was anything left in there. Those mutants were missing a few cards from the deck, that was for sure. 

He quickly injected Cait with a stimpak, and pulled her up by the arm. There was no time to waste when it came to mutants, for all he knew there could be a suicider lurking around the corner, just waiting to kill the two in a fiery, nuclear explosion. If he had escaped the giant nukes that had wiped out all of civilized society, there was no way in hell he would allow himself to be blown up by a little mini-nuke. 

Of course, that wasn't really up to him.

"I better get a hell of a lot more than just a laser rifle for this crap." He muttered bitterly, wiping mutant blood off his shotgun.

"Are we sure that's all of them?" Cait asked, pulling her swatter out of a super mutant head. 

"We had to have killed at least a dozen of them, surely there can't be more."

"I don't like this place one bit. Feel like we're bein' watc...."

Without a word of warning, she stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed in thought. 

"What is it babe?" 

"Do ya hear that? it's some sort of tic-"

Grant turned around, eyes widening in fear once he realized what was in front of him. A goddamn suicider, mini-nuke tucked in its arm, barreling straight towards them. 

Fuck.

Without second thought, Cait rushed towards the beast, smacking it in the jaw with her swatter. As she raised her arm to do it again, the nuke detonated, sending pieces of wood and blood flying everywhere. 

Grant looked at the scene in horror, nearly fainting when he saw how much blood painted the walls and ceiling. Rushing to the side of his girlfriend, he pulled her out from the pile of debris she was trapped under, breath stuck in his lungs. 

He found her clutching her ankle, desperately gasping in agony. 

Fuck.

He wasted no time, rushing to untie her laces, his fingers stiff and immobile from the shock. 

“C'mon, c'mon.” 

She whimpered as he carefully removed her boot, the sight of crimson red and white stealing the air out of his lungs. There was a white jagged end of a broken bone cutting through her skin, the blood running freely in thick scarlet rivers amongst the peach hairs of her leg, matting them together as it soaked into her once white socks.

“Okay. Okay, its okay. It’s an open fracture, I can fix this. I can fix this.”

He looked down at her, her face flushed, cheeks smeared with super mutant blood. God, she looked like she was on death’s doorstep. Placing his hands on the cuff of her pants and he began to rip, hands working automatically.

Oh God.

It was worse than he thought, so much worse. 

He needed to work fast, before she lost too much blood, before he lost her forever. Losing her wasn't an option, it absolutely fucking wasn't. Grabbing a nearby piece of wood, he quickly stuck it in her mouth, instructing her to bite down. He placed one hand above her knee and one below the ankle and began to apply downward pressure, his hand shaking furiously as he stared down her bare leg. 

The protruding bone pulled back into her skin, Cait's blood-curdling yelp nearly knocking him off his feet.

She was in so much pain, her complexion was ashen. Her natural pale skin had sunken in tone to something so lifeless it scared him just to look at her. Her eyes closed and she sucked herself into a deeper place to cope, her hand squeezing his with a death grip. All Grant could do was stroke her fiery red hair and hold her hand as he injected as many stimpaks as he had on hand. It barely seemed enough, as her heart rate dropped with each minute. From time to time his eyes glanced over at the space around them, checking to see if any other mutants were hanging around, but they were mostly fixed on her face in a soft stare so that whenever she opened her eyes he was the first thing she saw.

He needed to get her to Diamond City as fast as humanely possible, she needed surgery, she needed someone more qualified, there was no time. But he couldn't help but feel crushed, devastated that his plans for today had been ruined. 

He supposed he would have to pick up the engagement ring another day.


	32. Low Perception

"This is bullshit." Cait yelled, chucking the crutches across the room. "Stupid fuckin' bullshit!"

"Hey, look on the bright side. If you break your leg one more time this year, we can turn in our punch card for a free visit at Doctor Sun."

"Bite me, loverboy." She growled, a hard scowl stuck on her face. 

Grant sighed and took her hand into his, giving her a little squeeze of encouragement. 

"I know how much you hate being forced to take it easy, but you'll be back soon enough. Promise."

"I dunno. Feelin' kinda useless sittin' here with me thumb up me arse."

"I'd pay good money to see that." He smirked, shooting her his bedroom eyes. "I'm betting a ton of other people would too." 

Cait sighed and shot him a dirty look, finally fed up with Grant's stupid sarcasm. After so many weeks stuck in bed, she was in no damn mood for another round of his jokes. Couldn't he tell she was at her breaking point? As good as a fighter as he was, he couldn't read the room for his damn life. 

"Will you just shut up?" She moaned.

"Yeah, fine then." He sighed, pulling away from her. I've got to get going anyway."

"And where the hell are you goin'?"

"Nowhere important. Just need to get some things done." He murmured under his breath, grabbing his rifle. 

"Fine, don't tell me, but it's about time we hit the road."

"Uh actually, I'm heading out by myself. It's uh... it's better that you rest anyway."

Cait couldn't help but notice his wandering eyes, fidgety hands and the sweat dripping down his forehead. She knew those tell-tale signs of lying like the back of her hand, after all, she had spent her entire life with slavers and raiders, not exactly the trustworthy type. But still, Grant had never lied to her before, and she couldn't imagine why the hell he would start now. 

Well, not really. 

She wasn't an absolute idiot, you know? She knew damn well that men sneaking out in the middle of the night to "get some things done" meant one thing and one thing only, she just didn't want to admit it.

After all, she couldn't imagine why he would cheat on her. Yeah they've been getting on each other's nerves lately, but she didn't expect things between them to be going that badly. She really, really didn't want to believe it. Grant was the first damn person in the world to earn her trust and she hoped he wouldn't be the first to lose it. The thought of him weaseling his way into her heart, only to fuck her over like that made her sick to her goddamn stomach. She’d rather not think about it. 

"I'll be back. See you." He said curtly, his usual goofy farewell replaced with a stiff wave.

Yeah, something wasn't right. 

===

Grant tucked his hands into his pockets, racing out of the city, ignoring the throbbing in his heart and all the Diamond City guards he was bumping into. He had to rush, after all, he had a damn long journey ahead of him. Fallon's department store was on the other side of the Commonwealth and if he didn't hustle, there was no way he'd make it. Of course, if everything went to plan, he _would_ have picked up the ring a few weeks ago, but that mutant suicider had a completely different plan, didn't it?

Plus, things had changed between them since then. Really changed. 

Turns out Cait was an absolute bitch when she was injured and it felt as if she had gotten 10 times more unbearable since the last time. Back then, it was a bonding experience, you know? Back then, it was fun teaching her how to use those crutches and he _got_ to spend all day taking care of her. Now he _had_ to. 

Everything about her that he had found adorably annoying had now become straight up annoying and he was at the end of his rope. Couldn't she see he was trying? He was _trying_ to make her feel better, he was _trying_ to make her laugh, but all he was really doing was failing. Everything he tried was met with a eye roll, a dirty look, or an exasperated shut up. He couldn't even tell anymore if he was talking to the love of his life or a stupid, sassy teenager. Sometimes, when things got really bad, he wished he could inject her with some Psycho, just so she would just shut up for on-

No that was awful, he couldn't think that. 

But he was beginning to wonder if he should even go through with this, I mean, was he really ready to spend the rest of his life with this woman? How could he? How could he marry someone he wanted to break up with some days? He didn't know, he really fucking didn't. But he needed to get out of the house and going to Fallon's gave him an excuse to get out for a while.

And for the sake of his sanity, the break couldn't come sooner.

===

"C'mon, c'mon." Grant muttered under his breath, furiously fiddling with the safe lock. "Don't tell me the tumblers are rusted shut, don't you fucking dare."

20 fucking bobbypins. He had broken 20 fucking bobbypins just trying to get this damn thing open. The one in his hand was the last one he had and if he broke this one, it was all over for him. He didn't walk 3 straight hours only to fail. Everything was dependant on this one bobby pin, everything. His possible future marriage, his sanity, hi-

_*SNAP*_

Grant stared in disbelief at the snapped bobby pin in his hand, his mind completely blank. He spread his fingers and let the pieces hit the tiled floor, the rest of his body frozen in shock. After a minute or two, he pushed himself off the floor and walked away, right into the middle of the showroom floor.

Closing his eyes, he threw his head back, unleashing a deep scream from within. All he could feel was the anger and the frustration he'd been bottling up for the past month, the scream tearing through his entire mind and soul.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He yelled, kicking over every single mannequin, chair, and lamp in sight. 

Within minutes, the entire room had been upturned, items that had managed to survive over 200 years, now torn to shreds in a moment of rage. Up the escalator, he went, in search of more things to destroy. The anger had begun to sear through his heart and if he didn't get his hands on something to destroy, he was going to fucking lose it. But before he even got the chance to, he stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly falling to his knees. Without warning, he began to cry, no, it was more than that. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from someone drained of all hope, someone who had hit rock bottom. His tears dripped between his fingers, hitting the linoleum floors with a little splat. 

He hadn't cried like this in years, not since he had lost Nora and Shaun. But today, he couldn't help himself, he couldn't help but wail in desperate pain. He was tired, so damn tired. Tired fighting, tired of Cait, tired of life. Just tired. Eventually, he collapsed into his sorrow, crying his heavy heart to sleep. 

===

Grant woke up in a daze, with little to no recognition of what had happened only a half an hour ago. His grief had seemingly been lifted in his sleep, the deep feelings of sorrow that had consumed him nowhere to be found. He wandered for a while, up and down the empty halls until he remembered: the ring. That's what he was here for, the ring, the goddamn ring.

He began heading down the halls like a man in a mission, trying to ignore the furious thumping in his chest. As he walked past a desk, he noticed a little red box, perched precariously on top, as if the person who had put it there left in a hurry. 

Huh. 

Grant's eyes widened when he saw what it was, face lighting up like he had found the rosetta stone. A bobby pin box! Huh, he could have sworn that wasn't there before.

But hell, who was he to complain? 

With a newfound sense of confidence, Grant pushed the tumblers up one by one, feeling overwhelmed with pride when he heard that click. Cait would be damn proud of him if she were here.

Cait.

He could just see her now, arms crossed, face barely containing a wide, smug like smile as she muttered some sarcastic praise under her breath.

God he missed that woman.

As Grant walked home, ring in hand, he couldn't help but notice that unconscious smile that kept creeping onto his face the more he thought about her. God, he felt good. This happiness bubbling in his chest was something he hadn't felt in such a long while, and for the past week, it felt as if he would never feel it again. But here he was, smiling for the sake of it, just enjoying himself for the first time in ages. 

Everything was gonna be okay. 

===

Cait was on the verge of exploding, each hour Grant was gone only furthering her fury and suspicion. What the hell kind of errand could he be doing for 9 hours? As time went on, it became clear to her that she was been lied to, and the thought of that made her sick to her stomach. She wanted so desperately to believe otherwise but there was absolutely no way he was just "getting some things done", unless those things were Magnolia or maybe the nearest Diamond City Resident. What a fucking bastard. After all these months together, after all those promises of loving her forever, he screwed her over the first chance he got. Fucking typical. He was nothing but a dirty, cheatin-

Wait, wait, wait. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he wasn't off shagging some random lady, maybe he had gotten hurt. Oh God what if he had gotten hurt? What if Grant had gotten stabbed by a wayward raider or something and was slowly bleeding out in a street somewhere? Or God, what if he had died? What if the Institute had finally managed to put him in the ground? Her train of thought completely derailed as she began to descend into a panic. She had to go find him, she had to, she could deal with a cheating bastard, but God fucking dammit, she couldn't deal with a dead Grant. 

Cait hobbled over to her crutches, readying herself to head out and search, when Grant stumbled in, face red and sweaty, a stupid grin plastered on his face. 

And just like that, the sympathy and worry had evaporated into thin air.


	33. Party Boy Perk

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“You’re playin' fast and loose with the word fun there.” She sighed, petulantly rolling her eyes. 

“Hancock will be there, you like Hancock right?”

“I like him enough to not rip out his throat, not enough to spend an entire night with him.”

“Parties are fun.” He insisted, running his hands through his long, overgrown hair. “By 10 pm you’ll be so drunk you won’t even know what’s going on.”

“I’m not going. I’m don’t wanna spend an entire night socializing with your Railroad buddies. Can’t we just get drunk by ourselves?”

“We’ve been doing that for a while babe. I’ve been spending so much time with you that they haven’t gotten a chance to see me in months. They just miss me is all.”

She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes so far back into her head she thought they might pop. Why she was so upset about this whole party thing was still unknown to her. Maybe it was just the fact that Grant had everything she didn’t. She wondered what it was like, having friends that actively missed you and wanted to hang out. It must be nice knowing that people actually cared about you. She was dating the goddamn Sole Survivor, no shit he’d be a hot commodity, but still. All this time together was driving her absolutely nuts and it was great. Grant seemed a little easier to deal with recently, laughing and loving like he did when they first started dating. They drank beers on the roof, in bed, they drank beer just about anywhere. Life was good.

But now these stupid idiots were clamoring for his beer-drinking time and she wasn’t happy with it. Of course, those stupid girls were going to be there, you know, the ones that got lady boners as soon as they laid eyes on him. It was pretty damn ridiculous now that she thought about it, why the hell should she go to his dumb little party and watch 15 different women try and hit on her man? After all, she was still wary about letting Grant hang out with other women. She had never told him why she was so angry that day, but that suspicion in her had refused to let up all month, constantly nagging at her whenever another women dared to come within 5 feet of Grant. She guessed some part of her still didn't trust him. 

“It’s just one night Cait. Please? It would make me happy. And you know how adorable I am when I’m happy.”

He _was_ pretty damn cute when he got all excited. And after all he had done for her, she supposed the least she could do is go to his dumb party.

“Fine.” She sighed. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it or anythin’.”

“Thank you babe, I think you’ll have fun. Now why don’t you head to Fallon’s, pick out a nice dress for yourself, and tonight I’ll help you take it off.” He said, shooting her a devilish grin.

She couldn’t help but fall for that sexy smile and leaned in close, giving his ass a nice firm squeeze. After a short, intense makeout session, she pulled away, letting her boyfriend know exactly what she thought of that stupid dress idea. 

“Yeah well, you’re fuckin’ high if you think I’m ever wearing a dress.”

“Oh c’mon,” he begged, “we’re all dressing up tonight. Even Piper! You know how hard I had to fight her on that?”

“Oh yeah? Well don’t push your luck McKay.” She growled, a warning look in her eyes. 

“Alright, alright.” He relented, hands up in surrender. “I know you’ll be gorgeous no matter what you wear.”

And with a little smile and a peck on the cheek, he was gone, off to put on a belt for the first time in over 5 years. 

Cait quickly scrubbed the little pool of saliva off her cheek, shaking her head as she looked at the woman in the mirror. She was a mess, dirt-stained face, ragged old clothes, yet tonight she was supposed to hang off the arm of the Commonwealth’s most popular man. This whole party thing sounded like a load of bullshit.

Yet at the sight of Grant in that fresh suit made the thought of it all a little more bearable. 

She had seen Grant in a whole lot of different outfits, his combat armor, his pajamas, hell, she had even seen him in his birthday suit. But this? It really reminded her of just how handsome her dear old boyfriend was. The shirt he was wearing was a pure shade of white, something she had never seen before. No dirt, no blood, he looked like a goddamn prewar relic. 

“So how do I look?” He laughed, spinning around a couple times to give her a good view.

“I think I’m gonna rip you out of those tight dress pants tonight.” She smiled, planting a kiss on his lips. “Now let’s get this damn thing over with. If we don’t leave soon, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep me hands off ya.”

"You go on ahead, I just need to fix my hair up a bit and I'll be good."

After making sure she had really left, Grant slipped the ring into his coat pocket, patting it a couple times for good luck. 

Tonight was the beginning of the rest of his life.

===

“So what’s this party even about?” Cait asked, stepping over piles of debris. “What possible reason could they have for dragging us all here?”

“Its the two year anniversary of the fall of the Institute. I think that deserves a celebration.”

“Sure,” she sighed, “but does that celebrating _have_ to involve people?”

“Ah, my little introvert, it’ll be fine, there’ll be drinks and-“

“No it’s not that. It’s just...” She paused, trying to figure out how to word this in a way that didn’t sound completely ridiculous. “You know people there. People actually want to talk ta ya. I don’t wanna end up spending the entire night gettin’ drunk by myself while I watch ya talk with some random Brotherhood blokes.”

“Aw c’mon, you really think I could forget about you like that? I’m not leaving your side alright? We’ll get through this together.” 

“Good. I’m really gonna need you tonight.”

===

Grant looked his old house up and down, still in disbelief that his former home had been converted into a makeshift banquet hall for tonight’s festivities. To be completely honest, it was still a little painful to look at it. A lifetime of memories, from marriage to raising his son, all housed under one war-torn roof. It was just another reminder of the fact that all of that was gone. His wife and son were dead, the entire world as he knew it blown to bits, life before the bombs just a fading memory at this point.  
  
Fun.

Shock wasn’t even the word to describe what he felt when he walked into the place. The moonlit night was replaced with blinding neon lights, the low hum of the bloatflies now the dull roar of nearly every single person he had ever met. Brotherhood knights, Railroad agents, Minutemen, ghouls, mercenaries, reporters and a couple of robots. One thing was certain: this had to be the weirdest group of people ever assembled. 

“McKay!” Deacon called out, wrapping Grant up in a tight bear hug. “I see you suited up. I like the look.”

“I see you suited up too. But I can’t tell if that’s one of your disguises or not.”

“This,” he said, raising his arms to show off his shiny sports coat, “is my party suit. Not to be confused with my funeral suit, or my birthday suit. You like it?”

“I love it. Looks a whole lot better than that Wastelander camo stuff you used to wear.”

“Criticize it all you want but it worked like a damn charm. Oh, there she is, the one, the only... Caaaait!” He boomed in a ridiculous theatrical voice, Grant's face scrunching up as soon as he heard it. “Is that how they used to do it in the Combat Zone?” 

“I’d be glad to show you how we did things in the Combat Zone Deacon. You wanna take this outside?”

“I’m good actually, there’s another round of horderves calling my name and I think I’d like to stay alive long enough to answer it. I’ll catch you two around.”

Grant let out an audible sigh of relief once Deacon left, immediately turning his head towards his girlfriend.

“Well. That was fun right?”

“All I’m going to say is if you find anything drinkable around here, you better start sharin’.”

Drinks. Good idea.

===

“Sir,” Codsworth blubbered, “this is all so confusing. There’s so many people and they keep asking me for all these different drinks and-“

“Oi ya bucket o’ bolts, stop whinin', it’s real simple. Whenever someone asks you for a drink, you put down whatever rotgut you have on hand. But when me and Grant come ‘round you give us the good stuff, the stuff I know you’re keepin’ under the counter. You got that?”

“I-I think so.” He muttered unconvincingly, still looking rather nervous about the whole thing. 

“Codsworth, you’re doing a great job. Don’t sweat it, just get us a couple drinks and we’ll be on our way.”

“Very well sir. It’s rather unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.”

“I don’t know if invitin’ is the right word.” She snickered, throwing back the drink Codsworth had just placed in front of her.

“Oh sir, I nearly forgot! MacCready has requested your presence at once. He says it’s urgent.”

“Are we talking “the house is on fire” or “Danse clogged the toilet again” type of urgent?”

“He didn’t specify but I think it would be best if you spoke with him immediately.”

Grant sighed, hating how he was always being pulled in 17 different directions. All the bullshit that came with being the “Sole Survivor” was getting real tiring, for once he wished he could blend in with the crowd and just enjoy a party with his girlfriend.

But alas, duty called.

“I’m sorry baby. I’ll be back as soon as I can alright? Don’t miss me too much.”

“Can’t promise anythin’.”

She watched as he walked away, sighing as she stared at the bottom of her glass. Crowds of people filled through the room but she was in no goddamn mood to socialize tonight or any other day for that matter. So she was just fine with watching it all play out as she waited for her boyfriend to return. 

That plan went out the window once Piper took a seat on the stool next to her. 

“Cait, where’s your better half?”

“He’s talkin’ with MacCready. Why ya askin'?”

"Oh I don't know, you guys are usually attached at this hip. The only time I've ever seen you two separated is when you guys drop into my office asking me for relationship advice."

"Wait, he talks to you too?"

“Yup, we've been confiding in each other for a while now. I tell him about Nat and the paper and he...tells me how much he loves you. It took a little while to get used to, but after dating for so long, it comes pretty easy.”

“Dating? The hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Oh.” Piper stammered, eyes wide with shock. “I didn’t realize he didn’t tell you. I uh... did it get hot in here? I-I um, I think I should go.”

Cait stared at the now empty space in front of her, trying to comprehend everything she just learned. Grant? And Piper? Dating? Before he could even come back and get the chance to explain himself, she took off, leaving nothing but an empty barstool and a shattered glass in her place.


	34. Vices

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered bitterly under his breath, pulling his thin blazer closer to his chest. Bone-chilling wind and heavy pellets of rain found their way into his jacket, sending shivers down his entire body. He’d only been out here for 40 minutes max, but already, he was so goddamn sick of being cold, wet and tired. All he wanted right now was to see his girlfriend again and get to the bottom of this.

He fished the Home Plate key out of his pocket and rushed to unlock the door, desperate to see if she was still here. 

Hell, it all went down so fast, he didn’t even know what had happened. The conversation with MacCready was five minutes at most, but by the time he came back, Cait was already gone. You wouldn’t even know she was ever there if not for the shattered glass she had left behind. He had tried asking Codsworth, but as usual, he was absolutely no help at all, so here he was, off the solve the mystery of the disappearing Cait himself. 

“Babe, are you home?”

He walked into the bedroom, watching her as she shoved what little clothes she had into her backpack, seemingly indifferent to the fact that he was looking straight at her. All he could do is stare, watching as she went into a blind rage of packing. 

“What are you doing?” 

She didn’t answer. 

“What are you doing?” He asked a little more forcefully. 

She kept packing, slamming a pair of jeans into her bag. 

“For God sakes Cait, will you just-“ 

“Shut the fuck up!” She yelled, her eyes full of fury. 

“What do you mean shut up?” He asked. “You’re the one storming out of Sanctuary, acting-“

“Don’t even get me started Grant, don’t ya fuckin’ dare.”

“Get you started? On what? I didn’t do anything, I just-“

“Didn’t do anything? Didn’t do anything? First ya disappear for 9 hours for no reason, now I find out you've been hiding a relationship with Piper from me?”

He stopped talking, his entire body frozen in shock. What the hell was she going on about? He looked deep into her murky green eyes and for a moment he saw something he hadn’t seen before. 

The anger in her eyes. They showed the scared child within, the girl who was taught to fight and starved of the love she craved. For the first time, he could really see the pain beneath it and her soul drowning in this persona she carved to fit a world of cruelty. 

“Is that what this is about? You’re doing all this because me and Piper dated for a couple of years?”

“Don’t fuckin’ patronize me, ya son of a bitch. Don’t act like I’m overreactin’ cause I’m not. I know you're fuckin' cheatin' on me with her, ya bastard!”

Grant’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her, his somewhat calm exterior now replaced by the rage burning inside.

“Cheating? You’ve got balls trying to accuse me of that. Especially when you're the one who fucks anything with a pulse."

In that moment, Cait simply lost control of herself, barely having enough sense of mind to not throw a punch but instead, at the last possible moment, transformed it into a hard slap across his face that jerked his head to the side.

“Oh so ya think you're real fuckin' clever huh? Ya think I wanted to shag all those blokes?” She yelled, not fully realizing what she had just done until Grant pushed her aside, storming out of the bedroom.

“We’re done Cait! We’re fucking done!”

“Yeah, well go fuck yourself! As far as I’m concerned, ya can take our relationship and shove it up ya arse!”

She slammed the bedroom door behind him, slamming the door on the only man she had ever loved in the process. Her anger quickly faded away, as what she had just done began to sink in. She buried her head into her hands, on the verge of tears now because dear God, she just hit him, for the second time in their short partnership, she had hit him. She had become every other stupid piece of shit she had ever come across, and actually hit the one person in her life who was good to her. She couldn’t let this stand, she couldn’t allow herself to fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to her. 

She ripped open the door, sprinting after him.

“Grant, listen to me, I’m sorry. I do things I don’t mean sometimes, but just remember I love ya, yeah?”

“Are you serious?” He scoffed, the hurt and resentment bubbling in his grey eyes. “You really think that you can slap me then make some sorry half-assed apology and it’ll all be better?”

“I didn’t mean to hit ya! It was a mistake.”

“That’s exactly what you said last time. You lied to me. You said you’d never do it again and then you played me the fool. Well, I’m done with it. I can’t be with someone who accuses me of random bullshit and hits me when I try to explain. Take the house, take whatever you want, it’s yours. But you and I are done. Don’t even bother trying to change my mind.”

And just like that, he was out the door, gone as soon as he came. Cait watched him leave as the pain in the chest began to grow, eventually hurting so bad, all she could do was turn to the vices she had fought so hard to quit. Her entire body trembled as she stared at herself in the mirror, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted so desperately to cry, to wail out in pain for all she had lost, but she didn’t. All she could do was plunge the dose of Psycho into her arm and inject herself into a blissful stupor, unable to live with what she did sober.


	35. No Longer Welcome

Cait dug the combat knife into her forearm, trying to transfer some of the unceasing pain in her heart onto her skin, hoping it would make her feel even a little better.

The dozens of fresh cuts on both her arms told her it wouldn’t.

It had been two weeks since he had left and she had completely lost the good in herself Grant had managed to bring out. She was back on Psycho, because of course she was, she would never stop being more than a stupid junkie and she knew it, she knew it all along. Everything she had gained when she met Grant: a friend, true happiness, hope for the future, a reason to live, all left the moment he did. 

It wasn’t too long ago that they were celebrating her birthday, feeding each other cake as they told each other how much they loved one another. 

Now look at her. A sorry mess, drinking and injecting herself endlessly in hopes that they’d kill her someday. Just like things were at the Combat Zone. And with the slavers. And with her parents. But this was worse. This was misery multiplied, because she knew what it was like to be happy, knew what it was like to have someone care about her and she lost it. Just like everything else in her life, she fucked it up and ruined it for herself. The whole house only served to remind her of that, and she fucking hated it. 

Couldn’t look at the bedroom without thinking of all the late-night sex and cuddling, couldn’t look at the roof without thinking of all the beers they shared up there, couldn’t look at herself without thinking of how it felt to have his face pressed up to hers. 

Grant had told her she could live here, keep the damn house but she was sick and tired of that remembering shit, so she was done. Done with Diamond City and Grant’s stupid house that still smelled like him. Tonight she was leaving, off to go back to Tommy and the Combat Zone. Yeah it reeked of puke and piss and there were no caps to be made anymore, but it wasn’t here and that was all that mattered to her. 

But before that, she had things to finish and by things she meant bottles of whiskey and cases of Psycho. She had stuffed her bag full with chems and alcohol of course, but it was time for her last hurrah, one last ride. 

“Aah...what a rush.” She sighed, letting the syringe hit the ground as she pressed the bottle of whiskey to her lips. She savored the burn on her tongue and throat, a burn that made her recoil at one point. Yet now it was a feeling she longed for from the second she awoke till the moment she rested. Maybe Grant was gone, maybe he had left just like everyone did, but the alcohol was still here, her first friend and possibly her last. 

She later woke up in a puddle of some mysterious liquid, whether it was piss, puke, or blood or a combination of all was unknown to her. Just how things were back at the Combat Zone. She pushed herself off the cold hardwood floors and took one last look at the place, turning her head away once the awful feelings of grief came back. With one little sigh and a whole lot of hurt, she was out the door, and forever out of Grant’s life.

It was twilight when she left, yet everything was still lit up in Diamond City. The storefronts shining, every nook and cranny of the place illuminated by hanging streetlights.

She fucking hated it.

All she wanted was some darkness, so she could hide her shame and misery in the cloak of the night. She got her wish once she left the safety of The Wall.

It was a huge risk walking through Boston at this hour, after all, you never knew what was lurking behind those corners. But honestly? She couldn’t care less. So what if she got jumped by a raider or a mutie? What did she have to live for anyway? Most people were scared of the dark, scared of the unknowingness, but for her, knowing was far worse than anything else the Commonwealth could produce. In the darkness she found peace, there was nothing to see, nothing to fear. In the light, she found the Combat Zone, the hellhole she had longed to escape from for 3 years. Now she was voluntarily returning to it. 

Life sure had a sick sense of humor. 

Cait stormed in the place like she was returning home, not even bothering to greet the ghoul sitting on the stage. 

“Cait? The hell are you doin’ here? Where’s your partner?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” She grumbled, immediately collapsing onto the dirty mattress on the dressing room floor. 

“If you’re gonna barge into my theater after a year of not visiting me, you’re sure as hell gonna tell me what happened.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him like an exasperated teenager, all too hesitant to tell him about how she fucked up again.

“We dated for a little while then he dumped me two weeks ago. That good enough for ya?”

“Dated? You found someone willing to put up with ya like that? Color me impressed. And how exactly did ya manage to run him off, little bird?”

Cait stared up at her former boss, a cold sneer plastered on her face. After all this time, he was still the same bastard she met four years ago.

“None of your goddamn bus-“

“Woah woah woah, the fuck is that?” He spat, pointing at the injection marks that ran up and down both of her arms. “You’re still doing that junk?”

“Yeah. Got clean for a while, but I went back to it once he left. Don’t give me that look, ya knew damn well I wouldn’t be able to quit for good.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? The whole reason I kicked you out was so you’d clean yourself up. I had a hunch that he’d up for the challenge and I can't believe you threw that all away.” 

There was something about him right now that Cait had never seen before, a different kind of anger. Unlike that time she snuck a knife into the ring, this wasn't rage. No this was something far worse. This was a seething disappointment and it was all too clear by the look on his face that he couldn't tell whether to lecture her or throw a punch.

“I don’t know what you did to piss him off,” he continued, barely containing himself, “but you better get on your goddamn knees and beg him for forgiveness. I’m not going to sit back and watch ya slowly kill yourself again.” 

“I already apologized and you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m beggin' him to take me back.”

“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear. You’re not welcome anymore Cait. I’m not gonna let you inject yourself to death, especially not here. You’ve got two weeks and after that you’re gone.”

She looked up at him and saw he was dead serious, and only then did she feel real fear. Now that both Tommy and Grant were done with her, who did she have left? She had nowhere to go, nowhere to call home. With her parents, slavers and Tommy, at least she had something to do, somewhere she belonged. But now she had no tormentors, no one to blame for her misery and somehow that idea was far worse to her. All she had left in her life were the memories of psychological torment and the knowledge that she had lost the single scrap of humanity she managed to find in this fucked up world. 

That night, she found herself staring down the barrel of her shotgun. 


	36. Secondhand Hurt

“Blue, just have one bite, you haven’t eaten anything in days.”

He buried his head further into his pillow, trying to hide his red, splotchy face from her. Four straight weeks of crying will certainly do that to you. Ever since he had left Cait, he had become overcome with grief, a deep sadness he had never felt before. He was the one to break up with her, he was the one to leave, so why the hell did it hurt so bad? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t regret it, if he didn’t spend every single day and night wondering why he couldn’t just grin and bear the comparatively small issues that were arising in their relationship and just explain to her that he wasn't cheating. Cait was the only woman in his life to ever make him ever feel that way besides Nora and he threw that away, over what? One stupid accusation?

“Hello? Anyone home?”

“I’m not hungry Piper.”

He heard her set the bowl down and for a second, he thought she might throw it at him. Sometimes he forgot not everyone was like Cait.

“Blue, listen to me.” She said sympathetically, “After I broke up with you, I was a mess. Publik Occurrences didn’t run for an entire month because I couldn’t get out of bed. I felt awful for leaving and for the first couple of weeks, I was sure I had just made the worst mistake of my life. And eventually, once I came to my senses I realized, I didn’t.”

“You sure know how to make a man feel better.” He mumbled.

“What I’m saying is that after all the post-breakup grief subsided, I knew what I did was right. It just felt right in my soul. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I don’t think you’re exactly at peace with the whole thing.”

Grant flipped himself over, looking over at the reporter’s concerned expression.

“What gave it away?” He said dryly, staring at her with lifeless eyes. 

“It doesn’t take Valentine to know you’re down in the dumps. You’ve been like this for an entire month now. Maybe it's time to start considering whether you’re happy with your decision.”

Grant choked down a sob once he heard that, the mere mention of what had happened last month, enough to reduce him to tears. 

“I...I don’t know.”

“Do you really mean that?” Piper pressed, seemingly knowing Grant’s feelings better than he did. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours? Maybe it’ll help you figure out what to do.”

“Getting relationship advice from my ex? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t look so shocked Blue, crazier things have happened in the Commonwealth. Now c'mon, spill.”

He looked up at his former lover, vision blurred by the tears welling in his eyes. He wanted a resolution more than anything, to have a sense of inner peace like he did when Cait was around. All the good he had felt with her was now gone, now replaced with a sinking sense of grief and loss. None of it made sense to him, he couldn’t sort out the awful feelings swirling around in his heart. Maybe Piper would have better luck figuring this stuff out.

“I...I love her. I love her so much it's unbelievable. All I want is is to have a beer on the roof with her again, just tell her what she means to me.” 

Tears begin to drip down his face and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Piper did that for him. 

“But I can’t. I can’t because I fucking ruined it and I left her. I ruined it, I fucked it all up and I-“

“Woah woah, calm down Blue. You’re okay, you didn’t ruin anything.”

“She’s gone Piper! How can you-“

“Not forever.”

“You don’t know that! I have no clue where she went, she could be in the Capital Wasteland for all I know!”

“Why would she be in the Capital Wasteland?”

“I...I don’t know.” He admitted, slowly realizing what he was saying was nothing but pure panic. 

“When you’re friends with someone for over a year, you don’t just forget them in a month. Cait still cares about you, Blue. In fact, I bet she’s hurting just as much as you are.”

In that moment, it felt as if he had been by a ton of bricks. This entire time he had been focused on how hurt _he_ was, how much pain _he_ was in, and had completely ignored the fact that he had left her and became the very thing he swore he’d never be. Dear God. He had left as soon as the relationship wasn’t what he wanted and in the process, had become Stratton. The longer he thought about it, the more he doubled over in sorrow, unable to live with the knowledge that he had hurt her like he did.

“I hurt her Piper.” He cried, his voice trembling at every word. “I left her like everyone did, I-“

“Calm down, Blue.” She reassured, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You’re doing it again, take a deep breath. Or you know, a hundred.”

And so he did. Or at least he tried. Every one of his breaths shuddered as they entered and left his lungs, snot and tears running down his face. Cait would probably call him a sorry wimp if she saw him right now. 

“Domestic violence and cheating accusations aren't anything to scoff at, you did the right thing. It’s not a matter of what happened back then, you just need to figure out if she’s capable of changing.” 

At first thought, his immediate answer was no. Cait had known nothing but violence all her life, getting beat by her parents, her slavers, fighting raiders in the Combat Zone. With 27 years of that under her belt, he’d be crazy to think she could ever change that part of her. But then he thought about how different she had become in that year that they were together and suddenly things started to become clearer. After 8 years of heavy drug use, she had quit Psycho. After 27 years of being mistreated by every damn person in her life, she had overcome that and let him into her heart. If his time with her had taught him anything, it was that Cait could do anything she set her mind to. 

She just needed his help.

“Th...that’s it.” He muttered to himself, eventually crescendoing into a loud yell. “That’s it! That’s it!”

“What’s it? What’s going on Blue?”

“I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go see her.” He said, running around the entire room in search for the ring. 

“Are you sure about this? You sure you’re making the right decision?”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m completely- where the hell is the ring? I swear I just-“

“It's right here." Piper sighed, picking it up from the nightstand next to him. "God, it’s like you didn’t even look."

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you Piper!" He cried out, cursing his stupid clumsy fingers as he laced up his boots.

And just like that he was gone, out the door in a flash, off to reunite with his future wife.


	37. Old Memories

Cait refused to cry.

After all, she hadn’t cried in over ten years and she wasn’t planning on it now. 

She didn’t cry when her dad locked her in a shed for a week. She didn’t cry when she was sold into slavery. She didn’t cry when her slavers broke her body every single day for five straight years. She didn’t cry when she was pitted against fighters, made out to be nothing more than a toy used to line Tommy’s pockets with blood money. She didn’t cry after the love of her life walked away from her like everyone else in her life had.

But tonight, she came damn near close to it as she fought not to remember the last time she did.

Her body trembled as sweat rolled down her skin in thick, salty beads, her heart throbbing violently in her chest. She dug her nails into the mattress, fighting to keep the Psycho flashbacks at bay. Not now, not now, God not now. She needed to stay here, she needed to stay, she couldn’t afford to go-

“Get your fucking arse here Cait!” He roared, grabbing the young redhead by the foot. 

“No dad please! I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut the fuck up!”

She closed her eyes as he dragged her down the road, her head hitting the concrete with a hard thump at every rock and divot. 

“So ya think it’s funny to keep doing this shite? Didn’t learn your lesson last time, did ya?”

She stayed quiet, knowing that no matter what she said, she was bound to incur the wrath of her father. If he locked her in a shed the first time, she could only imagine what he would do now. 

“I asked ya a question, now answer me!” He demanded, pushing his hands up to her neck.

Her feet clawed to find their bearings, to find some sort of stability in a world where she had none. But before she could steady both feet, he pulled her up, her feet dangling desperately as he held her above the ground. 

“I said answer me!” He repeated, spit flying into her face as he shook her violently. 

“I... I don’t know.“

Without a second of hesitation, he slammed her body into the concrete, her head bouncing off of the pavement with a sickening thud. 

Cait curled up, clutching her head as she rolled on the ground helplessly. Pain began to throb so violently around her skull that she felt as if it might crack open, and deep down she hoped it did just so she could be rid of the pain. She was blinded with flashing colorful spots and craved darkness, quiet and stillness. Of course, she’d get a whole lot of those things if she was lucky enough to only be locked in the shed. She held onto that last shred of hope, hoping he already had his morning beer and was feeling merciful today. 

That all changed when he brought out the wooden bat. 

He tossed it a couple times in his hand, making sure a nearly unconscious Cait could hear the sound of the wood against his hand. 

“Since ya can’t seem to fuckin’ behave, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way. All ya had to do was not run away and yet ya managed to fuck that up too, ya useless piece of shite. Maybe this’ll teach ya. Maybe this’ll teach ya that ya can’t fuckin’ escape and ya never will.”

She let out a choked sob as the bat came down on her leg.

“Hey hey hey,” he reassured, “you’re safe, it's okay.”

“Dad don’t, please.“

“No no no, not dad, it’s Grant.”

She could hear him say something, but his words were distant and muffled, almost like he was speaking underwater. There was no time to think about what he was trying to say anyway, she was far too wrapped up in fighting the war with her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut as the memory began to sear a path through her brain, pounding unceasingly as Grant fought to keep her in the present with him.

“He can’t hurt you, Cait. He’s gone, he’s not around to hurt you anymore.”

Cait tried to think about those words, to listen to what he was saying but every part of her brain told her that couldn’t be true, that he was lying. She started to heave, trying desperately to fight against the ropes that bound her lungs. He was here, he had to be here, how else could she still feel his breath on her face and the touch of his sandpaper hands on her skin?

“Don’t touch me!”

Grant recoiled when he heard that, scared half to death by the way her voice trembled. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not touching you. Just let me know what I can do to help.”

“Don’t leave me.” She begged, her voice laced with fear, a horrible sense of terror that can only be found in a child. “Don’t leave me.”

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

He stayed for the next four hours, refusing to leave her side as her mind replayed those 2 minutes over and over, seemingly hellbent on tormenting her until she broke. For a minute, it seemed as if she would. But as she stood on the edge of sanity, with the balls of both feet hanging off, he yanked her back and pulled her close to his chest, refusing to let her demons consume her. She had spent so much time fighting gunners, bots and raiders for him but now it was time to repay her for all she had done and step onto her battlefield. 

As her mind pounded the words of her father into her skull, he made sure to respond with his own. With every cry of “useless piece of shite”, he fought back with an “I’m proud of you”, every “fuck you” met with an “I love you.” And slowly the battle was won, the words of her tormentors put on the back burner as she began to focus on Grant’s reassurance. 

And at 4 am, several hours after it had all started, her demons slinked back into the shadows, leaving her to live another day. After they had all retreated and the ropes around her chest finally unraveled, she looked up at the man by her side, the one she thought she had lost forever. 

He was here. 

He came back.

She could feel the tears begin to well up in her eyes as she looked at his stupid face, the eyes and smirk that were once her safe haven from the demons that had consumed her every single night. She had accused him of some horrible shit, failed to love him like he deserved to be loved but he was here.

He came back. 

And for the first time in ten years, she cried.

A single tear rolled down her face as she buried her head into his shoulder, both of their hands laced in each others as the two stared at the night sky on top of the Combat Zone roof. 

And that.

That was the moment she knew. 


	38. A Murmur In The Night

The stars were something special that night. The darkness draped the entire sky in its velvety richness, the stars burning and dancing brilliantly like they were performing a show just for the two of them. If tonight were just like any other night, Cait would be solely focused on the sky. After all, so many months with her astrology loving boyfriend had taught her how to appreciate those little things. But tonight, her heart and mind were in other places, namely the aforementioned boyfriend. 

He came back. Not only did he come back, but he was here, holding her like she might be taken away at any moment. He didn't show up to slap her, to give her a little taste of the hurt she had dealt to him, he had come to love her, to rescue her from herself.

He hadn't given up.

And the formerly stoic Cait, the same woman who often refused to hold hands in public, was reduced to a sappy mess. She didn't have a damn clue what was happening to her right now, she had never felt anything this strong before, not even when she was falling for him. Was this love? Gratitude? Respect? 

Well whatever it was, it had become to overwhelm her, making the tough as nails Irish brawler bury her head deeper into Grant's shoulder.

"Hey don’t cry, I hate it when you cry." He begged. "I know I look like shit but give me some time to shave and I'll look better, I promise."

"It's not that, it's just... I missed bein' close to you."

"What can I say, not many can resist my charming personality." He smiled, planting a kiss on top of her fiery red hair. "I missed you too babe. I really did.”

There he was, Grant in his full glory. His stupid self-deprecation, his teasing sarcasm, his sweet, never-ending affection; everything she had come to fall in love with, right next to her. He hadn't changed a single bit. 

She hoped he never did.

"Grant I...I'm sorry for hittin' ya. I'm startin' to realize how selfish I was for accusing you of cheatin' with Piper. We've been together for a while now, and we should trust each other. I had no right to accuse ya of anythin', especially when I didn't have any proof. I just wish I could make it up to ya."

"There is one thing you could do for me. It would mean a lot."

"Anythin'. Anythin' you need, I'll do it."

"Stand up."

"What?"

"You said you'd do anything right?" 

She hesitated for a second, wondering if he was planning to push her off the roof or something. But she relented, wiggling her way out of his grip and pushing herself off the cold, concrete floor. 

"What's next?"

"The rest of our lives."

"Cute, real cute. I'm bein' seri-"

All he could do is wave her off before she could finish, and sit up, pushing himself onto one knee. With trembling hands, he reached into his jean pocket, pulling the ring out. It took every single ounce of will in his body not to drop it, but through some miracle, he managed to keep his white knuckle grip on the ring. 

"Cait, will you marry me?

“Me?”

Grant laughed just a little. 

“Well, there’s not exactly anyone else around, is there?”

"Are ya serious? Ya actually want to marry me?"

"Of course I do. You're everything I've ever wanted. I don't think I'd be happier with anyone else."

She dropped to her knees, trying to stop herself from collapsing right then and there. She stared at him a moment longer, soaking in that loving look in his eyes. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start with yes. I think that’d be a good idea.”

Marriage had never crossed her mind. Ever. But the prospect seemed so good when offered from Grant's sweet lips. 

"Yes." She murmured. "Yes."


	39. Scribbles and Sketches

"Cait McKay. _Cait_ McKay. Cait _McKay_. Ca-"

"The hell are ya doin' Grant?" She asked, watching as her fiancé looked himself in the mirror, repeating those two words over and over.

"I'm just trying out your new last name. It still sounds a little weird to me though. Cait McKay. Isn't that crazy?"

"What, the last name or the fact that you've been saying 'Cait McKay' for 15 minutes?"

"Alright, so maybe I'm going a little overboard," he admitted, "but this is important, we've got to think about these things. This isn't even that big of a deal compared to all of the other wedding stuff."

"Other weddin' stuff? Like what?"

"Well, we've got to pick a venue for the ceremony, a venue for the banquet, choose who to invite, who's going to officiate, get the wedding rings, get you a dress, hire a catere-"

"Are ya sure we need all that?" She interrupted. "Sounds like a bunch of extra junk."

"Junk?" He questioned, taking Cait's hands into his. "Babe, this is the most important day of our lives. I know you're not really a party person but this stuff is important."

Cait cocked her head to the side and let out a deep sigh, trying to understand his obsession with unnecessary social interaction. It was a little crazy to her honestly, they were living in the middle of a goddamn wasteland and he was concerned with caterers? Sometimes she wondered if he forgot that the bombs fell, like those crazy old robots at Sandy Coves Convalescent Home, or maybe he was just plain and simple in denial. She said yes to his proposal because she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, not so she could wear a stupid dress and make chitchat with a priest while eating tiny food. But if it made Grant happy, she supposed she could suck it up for one day.

"Fine. If that's what you want."

"It is. And I promise you, it'll be a whole lot better than the last party we went to."

"Yeah, I sure hope so."

===

"Carrot flowers, fern flowers or hubflowers?"

"What?" 

"For the wedding, idiot." Grant smirked, looking up from notebook his head had been buried in all day.

"Do I look like some kinda botanist to you? If you're lookin' for flower opinions, you're talkin' to the wrong girl."

"Just pick one." 

"Hubflowers, I suppose."

"Ehhh..."

"Carrot flowers?"

"Ehhh..."

"Fine, fern flowers then."

"Hey that's exactly what I was thinking! See, we're totally meant to be."

Cait sighed and rolled her eyes, quickly reaching for a cold bottle of beer. Anything that could drown out the mess that was wedding planner Grant. 

"Anyway, I hope choosing flowers you didn't hurt your brain because I need you to help me out with something else."

"Don't tell me you're gonna make me choose between deathclaw, radscorpion or a ribeye steak?"

"Oh god, I totally forgot about the entrees." He groaned, burying his face into his hands. "No, not that, I was going to ask you about your guests."

"Guests? Well, how many people am I supposed to have?"

"Oh, I don't know, like 25?"

"25? I don't have 25 friends. I don't even know 25 people, how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I'm sure an incredibly gorgeous, charming woman like you can figure it out." Grant smiled. "Now shoo, I've got to figure out the whole entree situation."

Cait made her way up to the roof and immediately collapsed in the lawn chair, nearly toppling it over. 25 people? Where the hell was she supposed to find 25 people she could tolerate enough to share the happiest day of her life with? She had no family left, no friends besides her groom and a full bottle of whiskey, and no desire to spend her wedding day with anyone but Grant. This was _their_ day after all, so why the hell was he worried about whether bunch of random blokes would prefer baked bloatfly or crispy squirrel bits as an appetizer?

She had come up here to figure out who to invite but the longer she thought about it, the more she realized all this wedding stuff was a whole lot of bullshit. She had never been married or even seen a real wedding but she had been living in the wastelands her entire life and she knew how things went. The rituals and formality of the prewar went out the window when the bombs fell and all that really mattered in the Commonwealth was having a damn good time. You didn't need a four-course meal to make people happy, a couple of cases of booze would take care of that. 

Plus none of their time spent together had ever been conventional and she saw no reason why their wedding would be. Hell, they met because he decided to slaughter a bunch of raiders, they fell in love because of a drunken kiss, and they were getting married because of a breakup. Grant and Cait never had a fairytale romance and there was no reason for a fairytale wedding. All they really needed was each other's crazy, fucked up love. For the rest of their lives.

Cait headed downstairs with plans to tell Grant her new realization, only to find him buried in his notebook, practically tearing out his hair.

"What's the matter with ya?"

"Apparently Curie is going through a little no meat phase, meaning that I've also got to provide a vegetarian entree! I didn't even know synths needed to eat!"

"Grant." She sighed, moving to join him at the kitchen table. "We don't need all this wedding shite."

"Of course we do, this is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives and-"

"And it'll be that whether or not there are flowers, steak and a load of people. I don't care about those other blokes, as long as you show up, it'll be perfect."

Grant gave her a weary smile and took her hands into his.

"God, what would I'd do without you babe?"

"I dunno, probably be a lot saner."

"Yeah but that's the whole point. You drive me crazy and keep me sane all at the same time. I don't know how you do it, but somehow you manage."

He laughed a little and looked at her with those eyes, that loving look that seemed to hold a million words in those ash grey capsules. Those eyes that were all hers for the rest of her life.

"Fuck it. You're right. Fuck all of this." He cried, tossing his notebook in the air. 

The pages flew down like a winter's flurry, covering the two in pages upon pages of hastily scribbled notes full of lists of venues, various wasteland appetizers, and a couple naked doodles of Cait. Romantic. 

But one page in particular landed right in her outstretched hands, a page with words that had been scribbled out and rewritten a thousand times. She quickly scanned the page, looking for more naughty drawings, but what she found was better than any lude picture.

_Cait, before you came along i spent my all my days jumping from faction to faction, chem to chem, battle to battle, ~~place to place~~ , looking for my next escape. ~~When I went into the combat zone, I was chasing my next high and i came out wit someone who would become my best high, the greates escape I'd eve~~. I was the most indecisive person in the whole ~~damn~~ ~~c~~ Commonwealth, never able to commit to anything. To anyone. But ~~there's~~ if there's one decision in my life that I know is the right one, it’s ~~the decision~~ to spend the rest of my life with you. And i know your the one. The one that's finally enough for me. Your love is ~~better then the strongest chem~~ stronger than any chem, and your embrace ~~is~~ the only escape ill ever need. i love you._

Cait read it over again and again, trying to comprehend the words on the page in front of her. She must have spent a little too long in stunned silence, as it wasn't long until Grant snatched the paper from her shaking hands and crumpled it into a ball. 

"What the hell?" She cried. "Why the hell would ya do that?"

"Because it's been ruined."

"What do ya mean it's been ruined? What even was that?"

"Well, they _were_ my vows, now it's a basketball." He shrugged, chucking the paper ball into the nearest trash can.

"Why would ya throw away something so good?"

"Oh c'mon, it was a rough draft and pretty terrible rough draft at that."

Cait looked at him in bewilderment, trying to figure out how something so eloquent and beautiful could be considered terrible in his eyes. Then again, he fell in love with her, so his sense of good and bad was probably all kinds of fucked up. 

"Grant," she murmured, "I know I don't read much, but those are the best damn words I've ever read in my entire life. "

He looked into her eyes and saw she was being nothing but genuine, that those shitty words he had scribbled in a rush were really the best damn words she had ever read. And it was only then that he realized that his words didn't need to be perfect, that he just needed to tell her what she meant to him. 

"Well I've got to write better ones for the actual wedding, but until I do..." He stopped mid-sentence and stood up, holding out his hands and beckoning her to take them. 

She didn't understand, but if dating Grant had taught her anything, it was that so many things about him didn't make sense and that you often just had to go with it. 

So Cait took his hands into hers, waiting for what he had next. She watched as he took a deep breath, and knew that he was going to do _something,_ something that would leave her breathless.

"Cait, before you came along, I spent all my days jumping from faction to faction, chem to chem, battle to battle, looking for my next escape. I was the most indecisive person in the whole Commonwealth, never able to commit to anything. To anyone." He paused, letting the words really sink in. "But if there's one decision in my life that I know is the right one, it’s to spend the rest of my life with you. And I know you're the one. The one that's finally enough for me. Your love is stronger than any chem, and your embrace the only escape I'll ever need. I love you."

Cait collapsed upon hearing those words, her head crashing into his chest. She fought to keep her composure, wondering how the hell she was going to keep herself from crying on the real day, when he was reciting the final draft, and the two were actually getting married. But through some grace she was able to choke out the words, the words she had on her mind almost all the time but that were so hard to say out loud. 

"I love ya too. More than you'll ever know."


	40. Wait, What The Fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you guys are thinking, and yes, don't worry, I know what day of the week it is. I felt bad making you all wait a whole week for a 750-word chapter but chapter 41 happens to be the wedding chapter and it felt wrong to post both 40 and 41 together. So instead you're getting 40 on a Monday and the wedding chapter on Wednesday. Happy reading!

Cait watched as Grant studied the walls of each room in the house, examining each and every fleck of blood splattered on there. She stared at him with a cocked head, trying to figure out what the actual hell he was doing. Grant was a pretty weird guy, and this certainly wasn't the first time he was caught staring off at something weird, but there was different about this time. He had this weird look on his face, like he was a man on a mission. After a couple minutes of confused observation, she couldn't help but give up and ask.

"Alright, what the hell are ya doin'?"

"I'm trying to figure out how deep these stains go. If they're just surface level, I can paint over them and get my deposit back, but if-"

"Deposit? The hell are ya talkin' about?"

"Well once we get married there's no way we can keep living here." He said, eyes still locked onto the wall. "I talked with Geneva and as long as the place is kept in decent condition, I should be able to get my caps back."

"Woah woah woah, since when are we movin'? I sure as hell don't remember talkin' about that."

His face scrunched up in confusion as he turned his complete attention to his soon to be wife and her aloofness.

"I... thought it was a given. I mean look at this place, it worked when I was living here as a bachelor but we're outgrowing it. How are we going to raise kids in this tiny little box?"

Kids?

It seemed like every time Grant opened his damn mouth, he had another bombshell to drop on his poor unsuspecting fiance. Moving was a big enough deal on its own but kids? Kids? Cait took a couple moments to compose herself, so she could respond to his news with something other than "wait, what the fuck". 

She did not succeed. 

"Wait, what the fuck? When the hell did I agree to that?"

Grant's entire face dropped when she said that, his skin turning a horrible shade of ghastly white. Sweat began to gather at the top of his forehead as his mouth opened and closed, seemingly searching for the words. 

"You...don't tell me you don't want kids?”

She looked in his eyes and saw desperation in its truest form, similar to how her opponents in the cage looked. She thought carefully over her next words, knowing full well that she had the power to absolutely shatter him in this moment. Never before had she minced words but she loved this man more than anything and she had hurt him too many times before to do it again. 

"I haven't really thought about it before. We can talk about that shite later but I wanna know what the hell is up with the moving crap."

Grant let out a sigh of relief, seemingly at ease with the fact that her answer wasn't an outright no. He quickly situated himself at the dining table where Cait was seated at, eager to explain his lavish home plans. 

"Well ever since the bombs dropped, the real estate market in Commonwealth has been pretty awful and there's no damn way I'm gonna drop 3000 caps on a tiny radroach infested shack in the middle of nowhere. So instead of that, I was thinking we could do it ourselves. Pick out a piece of land near the beach and build our own place. Think about it, we can build a little front porch, maybe put a little bar in the back, and...God, I'm rambling aren't I?"

Cait was indifferent to the whole thing but there was a certain gleam in Grant's eyes right now, the same giddiness that made her fall in love with him in the first place. But there was something greater there, something greater than excitement over a cup of coffee. Hope. It wasn't something you saw often in the Commonwealth, but here it was, in heaping abundance. Grant had always been the hopeful kind, but never blind to what the Commonwealth really was. But in this house fantasy of his, that wall of protection seemed to be gone, replaced by childlike hope. Cait had always hated idiots like that but that naivety just seemed so damn cute on her man and she'd be damned if she was the one to shatter his dreams.

"I've never been the kind of lass to object to a bar. 'Specially one right in me own home."

"So you're on board then?" He interjected. "You're cool with all this stuff?"

"Guess I am."

And that my friends, was the biggest lie she ever told.


	41. There Are Screams and Church Bells Ringing

"Easy now! You're choking me!"

"Beauty hurts McKay." Deacon teased, tightening the knot on Grant's tie.

"Hrk!" He gasped, slowly panicking as he felt his windpipe being crushed. 

"Alright, there. All done. You can stop complaining now."

He looked into the shattered, blood-smeared mirror in front of him, smiling at the sight of himself in a clean tux. 

"I clean up pretty nice..." 

Grant turned to look at the small crowd of men behind him, every person he had somehow managed to befriend throughout the years. A Brotherhood Paladin, a synth detective, a mercenary, a Minutemen, a Railroad agent, a ghoul mayor, and a Mr. Handy. This had to be the weirdest group of people ever assembled in one room. Even so, they did look pretty damn sharp in those black suits he had forced them to wear. Grant hoped they appreciated the effort he put into getting those, massacring an entire group of Triggermen and pulling the clothes off their body wasn't a very pleasant sight. 

The things he'd do for a wedding.

"You look good soldier. But the ceremony will be starting soon. We should head out."

"Ah yes, I simply cannot wait!" Codsworth said gleefully. "Let's go, sir. No use delaying the inevitable!"

"You guys go on ahead. I need to talk to MacCready and Deacon for a second."

"Uh oh. That can't be good." Deacon whined, yanking at his collar. 

And so the rest of the men shuffled out, leaving the two companions and Grant alone in the once overcrowded room.

"So what's up?" MacCready asked. "I feel like I've been called to the principal's office or something."

"Nothing bad." Grant reassured. "Uh, okay a little bad. I know today is supposed to be nothing but happy and I know you guys don't like talking about this, but both of you guys have been married before and...and I just need some advice."

And it was then that Deacon and MacCready, two quick-witted guys who always had something to say about everything, were rendered silent. They both stammered for a while, shot each other nervous looks, and for a hot second, Grant was convinced he had permanently stunned the two. After a couple of very uncomfortable minutes, Deacon finally regained his confidence and was able to muster out a complete sentence.

"Look I didn't deserve Barbara. But by some miracle she stuck with me and we were able to able to carve out a good life in this wasteland together. Being with her made me feel like the whole world had a chance. That one day we could climb out of this wreckage. And I thought that's how it was going to be. That is until she was ripped from my arms without warning. Look, the Commonwealth is ruthless, it doesn't care who you are and what you've done, it won't hesitate to take you or your loved ones out. You need to remember that every day of your fucking life."

Both Grant and MacCready stared at him in wide-eyed shock, in disbelief over what they just heard. 

"Woah. That was some speech." MacCready quipped. "I was just gonna say to never tell her she's acting like her mom, but that's even better."

"Both are good. And thanks for telling me that Deacon, I... I know it couldn't have been easy."

"Thanks for taking it so well. Dez banned me from making speeches after the swiss cheese incident."

"What's the swis-"

"Don't even bother asking." Grant interrupted. "He's trying to sell you another one of his lies."

"Yeah, you got me. But you're going to hear the same sort of lies elsewhere. Now c'mon, let's not keep everyone waiting."

===

"You've chosen a beautiful place to get married, Mr. McKay." Pastor Clemens smiled. "I don't often get to do weddings like this.

Grant nodded absentmindedly, hearing the words but not listening. His knees began to tremble, as the weight of what he was about to do began to sink in. Was he this nervous when he was marrying Nora? When he thought back on that day, it seemed to flash by so quickly, yet today, each minute felt like an hour as he waited for his bride to arrive. 

"Nervous?" 

"Ah maybe a tad bit. Just a little though."

"Don't be. The last wedding I officiated was between a robot and a schoolteacher. If they can make it work, so can you two."

"Well, I guess that's pretty encouraging." He admitted. "The fact that my fiance is 5 minutes late to her own wedding _i_ _sn't_. I wonder what she's doing right now."

===

"Forget it. It's not happenin'."

"Come on." Piper insisted. "We can work something out."

"No. No way." 

"Mademoiselle Cait, we are already quite tardy to the ceremony. We do not want to leave Monsieur Grant waiting for too long, yes?"

Cait looked down in shame, nervously twirling her thumbs. God, what'd she do for a cold beer or dose of Psycho right now, anything to take away the fear pounding in her heart. She was supposed to get married to him today.

_Married_.

Committing to a relationship with him was hard enough but this was a whole different beast. This was an entirely different level of commitment, one she wasn't sure she could make. Ever. Even though it was initially hard for her to get used to the relationship stuff, dating was pretty damn fun and she was honestly having the time of her life. Sex, dates, kicking ass together, what more could a girl ask for? 

But apparently, that wasn't enough for Grant. He wanted to get married and she thought she did too until she realized how much things were going to change once they did. Walking down that aisle meant a new house, a new life and a couple of babies she never agreed to have. No longer would she be his partner in crime girlfriend, as soon as she said "I do", she'd be resigned to his dutiful wife, a cute little idiot who's only purpose in life was to do the dishes and pick up his dirty socks. Ugh. 

She couldn't go through with this, she couldn't. As much as it hurt to think about how she was letting Grant down yet again, there was no way she could do this.

"There isn't goin' to be a ceremony. I can't get married to him, I can't."

"Oh you must madame! The population of the Commonwealth is a tiny fraction of what it was. You two must stay together and focus on reproduction."

"God not right now Curie," Piper sighed, "this is serious. So what are you gonna do, leave him at the altar? What the hell's got into you?"

"I can't...I can't do it right now. I'm just not ready."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that a little sooner Cait!" She yelled, showing a level of anger the two girls had never seen from her before. "What possible reason could you have for doing something like this?"

Cait looked at her with a scowl, pissed off at her for acting so holier than thou. Didn't she have any heart? Why the hell was she trying to goad her into doing something she didn't want to do? She had no damn right in asking for a reason, Cait didn't have to tell her a single thing. 

But the guilt of what she was planning on doing had begun to overtake her, collapsing her entire chest in grief. If telling them why she was so hesitant would help relieve some of that, then she might as well.

"When we get married, everythin' we worked so hard for is goin' to fall apart and things aren't gonna be the same. I can't go back to the way things were when we first met. I won't."

There was a couple of seconds of stunned silence in the room, followed by a cynical chuckle from the opinionated reporter.

"You want my opinion? I think you're making a real mess of things. God. I don't know how anyone with a heart can do a thing like that."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? You don't know a damn thing about our relationship."

"Yeah, I do actually. I dated him for two damn years, I know him just as well as you do. And we both know he can't take another heartbreak."

She watched Piper's face soften as she let out a deep sigh.

"He loves you Cait. And if you don't want it to change, he won't let it. He'll do anything to keep you. For God's sake, he's choosing to spend the rest of his damn life with you. And you're leaving him waiting at the altar."

Cait threw her head back and buried her face in her hands, her entire body shuddering with emotion. God, she was right. She was right, she knew she was right. She was so unbelievably scared right now, more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life. And when she was scared, she usually turned to alcohol, to self-harm, to Psycho. She turned away. And on her wedding day, on the supposed happiest day of her life, she was still turning away. Away from the man she loved. The man who made her feel whole in all spots she had been broken in. The man who loved her at her worst, when no one else would. The man who had never stopped waiting for her. 

===

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Deacon sighed, "but a bride that's 30 minutes late probably isn't showing up." 

"No," he insisted, "there's no way she bailed on me, no way in hell." 

"I've dealt with a fair share of runaway brides and Deacon’s right." Valentine sighed. "I'm sorry." 

Grant looked around at the sympathetic gazes of those around him and could tell he had become the subject of their pity, the pathetic groom abandoned by his bride.

"I'm sorry general. Let's get out of here."

With a deep sigh, and a heavy heart, he hesitantly nodded, throwing his hands up in the air. 

"Fine. She's not coming, we might a-"

Almost if on cue, the church doors swung open, his fiancé standing in the doorway.

"Well I'll be damned." Hancock muttered under his breath, a look of shock plastered on the ghoul's face.

The once cynical crowd quickly returned to their seats, murmuring amongst themselves as Cait made her way down the aisle. 

All the anger and betrayal he had felt bubbling up inside of him had instantly dissipated upon the sight of his soon-to-be wife in that dress, the one she swore she'd never wear. Even without makeup, she looked like a grown man's dream, her sea of red hair illuminated by the sunlight that shone through the stained glass windows. His chest began to tremble as she walked up the altar, overwhelmed with emotion just at the sight of her. At that moment, the rest of the world faded away, the crowd, the pastor, all gone, leaving only her.

"Run into some traffic?"

"Yeah," she chuckled, grabbing his hands, "something like that." 

“Ahem, friends, family, we are gathered here today to celebrate-"

"No no no," Cait interrupted, "skip that borin' shite, will ya? Just get to the important stuff."

"Oh um, alright. Uh, do you, Grant, take thee Cait to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Cait, take thee Grant to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife."

Cait quickly grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in, kissing him as the world fell away. It was slow and soft, _so_ unlike her, and seemed to speak in ways that vows could never. His hand rested below her ear, thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and-

"Ahem." 

The two pulled away from each other and looked out at the crowd, who were watching in a grotesque mix of disgust and awe, unsure whether to clap or avert their eyes. 

"Passionate love or gross, over the top PDA? You be the judge." Deacon teased. 

"Well, they're definitely passionate." Hancock murmured. "Real damn passionate." 

"Can we stop talking about their gross slobbering and talk about the fact that they just got married?" 

"Piper's right." Preston agreed. "Let's give a hand to the general and his wife!"

The small crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause, making so much noise that you'd think there were about 50 more people than there actually was. Deacon was the loudest of course, whooping, hollering, and hey, where the hell did he get an air horn?

Cait stared out and soaked in every second of the applause, relishing this warm feeling her in her chest. When she was at the Combat Zone, she used to love entering the ring and hearing everyone cheer. But this time, she wasn't some caged animal being leered at, no, she was getting married to her favorite person on the whole earth. Things couldn't be better. 

"As much as I'd love to keep celebrating, there's a vertibird waiting to take you to your honeymoon destination outside and I suggest you meet the lancer as soon as possible. They're not a very patient bunch."

"I've got a couple of dirty magazines and a box of tissues," Deacon quipped, "I say we let them go wild and buy our happy couple a few minutes of partying."

"I hardly think that would be appropriate." 

"I'd be happy to take those off your hands Deacon." Hancock said with a smirk, motioning over to him.

"Jesus, guys, gross!” Piper winced. “Seriously?"

Grant waved them all aside, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Talking about masturbation on my wedding day. Couldn't have expected anything else from this crowd." He said, chuckling a little bit. "As much as I'd love to continue this discussion, we really should head out. The two of us have...honeymoon things to get to."

"Oooo, I like the sound of that, love."

Grant could hardly mutter a goodbye to the group as Cait dragged him out of the church by the arm, her eyes full of that wanting that drove him crazy. 

"There you are. Ready for takeoff Paladin?" 

"Yeah we're damn ready," Cait assured, "real damn ready."

This time, she really meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, 3000 hits? You guys are fucking awesome.


	42. The Love (and Booze) They Shared

"Mmm, thanks Lancer, mmmm, ohhhhh." Grant moaned, barely able to keep himself together as Cait found a new place to stick her hand.

"I'm never flying with you again." The lancer said with an eye roll, quickly lifting the vertibird up with a whir. 

Neither of them were paying much attention though, both too engrossed with the idea of each other's bodies, and exploring each and every inch of it. A perfectly good bed was only 50 feet away but they never made it there, electing to go at it right then and there. 

Check beach sex off his bucket list. 

There was something different about this time, and it wasn't just the fact that sand had somehow found its way into his ass crack, no, it was something bigger than that. The woman currently in between his legs wasn't some nameless settler or stranger picked up from the bar, it was his wife. His beautiful, wonderfully fucked up wife who was really good at this whole sex thing. They were married now.

Married.

Grant could hardly believe it honestly. After all this time, all the fighting, sleepless nights and the countless attempts to get her to settle down, they were married. For real. Fucking hell, this was it. This was the kind of excitement that would drive a grown man to start jumping up and down like a little kid in a candy store. 

But you know, who needs a store when you've got your own personal piece of eye candy?  
  
After the two had thoroughly exhausted themselves, they sat back up, both of them giving at each other with _that_ look, panting in exhaustion. 

"What're ya thinkin' about?" Cait asked, barely able to gasp the words out. 

"Just how I banged this really hot girl. What are _you_ thinking about?"

"I just fucked the hottest guy alive, that's what I'm thinkin' about."

"Oh yeah? What's he like?"

"He's great in bed."

"So's my girl."

"He looks great in a tux."

"She can handle her scotch."

"He's my husband."

"She's my wife."

"Damn right she is." Cait smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. "I love ya so damn much, ya know that?" 

"I love you too baby." 

His face suddenly flashed with a streak of mischief and Cait knew instantly that he had _something_ good in the works for her. 

"In fact, I love you so much, that I'm willing to share my flask with you."

Cait gawked at the sight of that metal booze buddy, only to deflate immediately once she felt how empty the thing was.

"Oh c'mon, there's hardly anythin' in here. How the hell am I supposed to get wasted with this?"

"You left me up there for half an hour, can you blame me for wanting to take the edge off?"

There was a bitterness to his voice, an extra bite that scared her a little. For a moment, she was worried he'd start pitching a fit, but much to her delight, he pulled out another flask instead. This time, a full one. 

"Here's to us." He smiled, holding his near-empty flask in the air like a trophy. 

"To us." 

The two gulped down their whiskey like it was nothing, hardly reacting to the sharp burn that accompanied it. Together they drank freely all night, feeling absolutely bubbly by the end of it. Looking at each other with those love-stricken eyes, they smiled, unable to tell if this bubbliness was from the booze or the love they shared. 

That night, it was both. 


	43. 6'5 Bearded Badass

"You know what I just realized?" Grant asked, half to Cait, half to himself. "I never got to say my vows, which is a shame, because they were pretty damn good in my opinion. Certainly better than my first draft."

"I have a real hard time believing that." She scoffed, burying her head closer into the crook of his neck. "Look I'm sorry about the whole ceremony shite, I fucked up our entire wedding and-"

Grant pressed his lips into hers before she could eek out another disparaging word about herself, kissing her with an urgency and tenderness that seemed impossible given what she had done. In that moment, she let her worries wash away, just letting herself be loved by the man she loved so much. 

"You don't have to apologize, you don't have to explain yourself, just...be with me. That's all I ask of you."

"I'm with you for the rest of my life." She whispered. "Forever."

So there they lied, eyes fixed upon the ceiling, holding each other like this was their last day on Earth and they were striving to get every second they could together. Two people, madly in love, truly, honestly believing that they were the luckiest people alive. 

And the silence was finally good. Really good. 

"Hey uh, did you ever get around to writing _your_ vows? I know you never got a chance to say them officially but I'd love to hear them now."

"Ya don't wanna hear them." She urged. "I tried, I really fucking tried but they're shite, utter and complete shite. I spent days tryin' to write out just how much I love ya, and it all sounds like garbage."

"I don't care."

"No ya don't understand, they're-"

"I don't care." He repeated, a little smirk playing off his lips. 

In just three words, Grant managed to say a whole lot and Cait was damn fluent in his language. She knew that hidden in those three little words was a true disregard for the quality of her vows, and instead just a true yearning for everything and anything she had to say.

"Fine." She conceded, pulling the crumpled sheet of paper from her bra. "Look, it's not good or anything, definitely nothing like _your_ vows, but-"

"I don't care."

She looked into those readily waiting eyes and back down at the absolute crap scribbled onto the page below, knowing full well that nothing on that page could ever really tell him how much she loved him, but also knowing that any further objections would just lead to another "I don't care." Ah what the hell? What was the worst that could happen? With a little tip of the flask and a little bit of faked courage, she began to read the words she had grown to loathe.

Until she didn't. 

As soon as her eye caught sight of that first word, she ripped the thing in two, sighing as the shreds fell harmlessly onto the floor. 

"Cait." Grant sighed, a hint of parental disappointment noticeably present. "Now why'd you go and do that?"

"Because they sucked."

"Babe-"

"No, they really sucked and besides, I don't need a stupid piece of paper to tell you how much ya mean to me."

She looked down at the ground beneath her for a second, trying to formulate some grand, Grant-esque speech, and failing desperately. There really were no words that could tell him how much he meant to her, how much she loved him. But that didn't really matter, did it? Overthinking had done nothing but fuck her over in the past and maybe all she needed to do now was to speak from the heart.

Ugh, maybe she _was_ turning into Grant. 

But nevertheless, she continued, trying her damn best to speak from the stony, dead thing she called her heart.

"Grant I... deep down I've always felt broken. Fucked up in a way that could never be fixed. But... I don't feel that way anymore. When I'm with you, I feel like maybe...maybe I'm not so fucked up, that maybe... I can be a good person. And I think I am now. Sometimes, at least. Thanks to you."

She took a momentary pause, trying to collect herself before she really delved into the good stuff, the "you're the best thing that ever happened to me", "I love you more than life" stuff, but she never got there. Because before she could, she was tackled by a 6'5 bearded badass, the one she affectionately called her husband. Okay so maybe tackled was a bit of an over-exaggeration but by the way, she was being squeezed by him, it certainly felt that way.

"God I love you." He whispered softly, not out of any need to be quiet, but out of fear that if he dared say it any louder, he might start crying.

"Were they really that bad?" 

Grant looked up at her with the most loving stink eye humanly possible, shaking his head in mock anger. 

"Shut up." He laughed, pulling her body closer to his. "They were perfect. You're perfect."

“You’re an idiot McKay," she chuckled, "a massive fuckin’ idiot.” 

"You're also an idiot...McKay. God that feels so good to say aloud."

"You're still on that last name shite?" 

"Always will be, Cait McKay. Always will be."

Cait had been called a lot of things in her life, most of them being slurs that would turn your blood into ice. Bitch, whore, asshole, she had heard the worst of it. 

But Cait McKay? 

She could get used to that one.


	44. Thorough Experimentation

“Look at that sunrise.” He murmured, pulling Cait closer into his body. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

“May not be the same, but ya can always watch it back at home. Sun’s not goin’ anywhere.”

“No, I’m not just talking about that. It’s just...being here with you, all alone...talking about everything and anything...having sex all the goddamn time...I just wish we could do this more often.”

“Aren’t ya a horny one?” Cait laughed, shooting her husband those bedroom eyes. “If ya love shaggin’ so much, I could go another round.”

“Babe, I’m not one to turn down some sex, but I...I don’t think you get what I mean. It’s not just the sunrise, or the fantastic, fantastic sex that makes me not wanna leave. It’s you. All this alone time is just...it's making me realize how fucking perfect you are and how much I love spending time with you.”

He stopped for a moment to stare deeply into her eyes and just when she thought he couldn’t get any more romantic, he continued.

“God, you’re just so endlessly fascinating to me. I could talk to you all day if I had to, you know? You make me wonder how I convinced a girl like you to marry a guy like me.”

“You’re jokin’ right? Yer the only man in the whole damn Commonwealth crazy enough to actually want me.”

“You’re saying that like you don’t have a mile-long line of guys who’d love to spend a night with you.” 

“And how many of those guys would actually be there the morning after?”

“I don’t know babe, maybe if they knew how good you were at cuddling, they would.” He said with a smirk, pulling her closer into his chest.

“Oh shut up.” She moaned, playfully shoving his face. “You’re not so bad yerself, ya know? I get why so many girls think yer irresistible.” 

Grant snorted and rolled his eyes, his face showing a hard disdain he never usually displayed. 

“Fuck ‘em. Fuck all of them. Those girls want the sole survivor, not me. They want the good-looking, charming hero who kisses babies and shakes hands, not the PTSD riddled war vet who can’t sleep most nights. They idolize me, but they’d be running for the hills if they knew who I really was.” 

He stopped his anger-fueled rant in his tracks upon sight of his wife, his face quickly shifting to quiet contemplation.

“But you haven’t. You’re here. And for some reason, you’ve decided to spend the rest of your life with me. I’m one lucky man.”

“Grant, ya know damn well I’m the lucky one. Ya know I don’t like talkin’ about my feelings much but...well I’m real fuckin’ glad ya decided to walk into the Combat Zone two years ago.”

“So am I.” He smiled, taking the side of her face into his hand. “You know, I was actually supposed to go radstag hunting with Danse that day, but he ended up bailing on me. Something about a mandatory training exercise. I don’t know where’d I be if Maxson wasn’t such a stickler for drills.”

“I know exactly where’d I be. High outta me goddamn mind, crushing some piece of shite’s head like a fuckin’ tarberry.”

Grant looked down for a second, his eyes showing the slightest bit of hesitation, as he broke away from her loving gaze.

“Do you...do you ever miss life before me? I know life wasn’t easy in the Combat Zone, but hell, it had to be way more exciting than everything we do now.”

Cait looked at the face of her new husband, his face noticeably dejected and listless. It’s almost as if he was scared of the answer. 

She didn’t hesitate in her response, didn’t even stop to think about it, because honestly there was nothing to think about. No matter how boring some days got, she loved Grant and she loved how he brought out a side to her she thought was gone forever. She’d take him over any damn adventure. 

Always. 

“Ya know, before ya came along, I thought I had a couple good days before. Defeated this giant raider named Driver once, and made over a thousand caps in one fight. Got crazy drunk with Stratton and shagged him right then and there in the ring. But ever since ya decided to wipe out those raiders and take on me contract, every single day I get with ya is my new favorite.”

Grant’s entire body and face completely froze as he tried to process those words, the normally talkative man reduced to nothing.

“Fuck.” Grant muttered under his breath. “And you say I’m the romantic one.”

“You are. Just cause I happen to string a couple of sentences together from time to time doesn’t make me romantic.”

“First a surprise dinner, and now grand confession of love. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were turning into a big old softie.” 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you forgot how good I am at bashing people’s heads in.” 

“And I think you’re forgetting how much you love me.”

“As hard as I try sometimes, I can’t.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” He smiled as he pulled her in, kissing her like it was the first time. 

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier if ya weren’t such a good kisser.”

“Am I really that good? It could just be a fluke. Guess we have to keep trying.”

“No complaints here.” She smirked, hastily pressing her lips into his. 

Just as they were really getting into it, Cait abruptly pulled away, much to Grant’s dismay. He opened his mouth to protest the sudden stoppage, only to close it once he saw Cait pulling something out of her bra.

“Oy, before I forget, take this.”

“Holy crap, how much stuff are you hiding in there?”

“Yer always welcome to check.” She said with a smirk, giving him that look that drove him crazy.

“I...will definitely take you up on that. After I find out what the hell you just pulled out from there.”

“Here,” she quipped, pressing the item into his hand, “take it.”

“A holotape? Oh my God, don’t tell me you recorded porn for me?”

“No, but maybe if ya behave, you’ll find some in your Christmas stocking.” 

“So if this isn’t porn, what is it?” He muttered, working to insert the tape into his pip-boy. 

“No no no.” She insisted, ripping the holotape out of his hand. “Don’t listen to that shite right now, especially not in front of me. I fuckin’ hate the sound of my voice. Went through hell havin’ to listen to it over and over when I recorded it.”

“You’re joking right? Your voice might be the sexiest thing known to man.”

“Yer shittin’ me.”

“Babe, your accent is so goddamn hot," he gushed, "I could listen to you read a whole damn phonebook.” 

“The hells a phonebook?”

“It’s...never mind. The point is, your voice is fucking heavenly and even if it's not porn, I’m sure I’ll love listening to whatever it is.”

“Ya better, it was hell tryin’ to convince Travis to let me use his recording shite.”

A fearful look came across Grant’s face as he thought about the implications of that statement. Did she...

“Don’t tell me you let him have se-“

“Oh c’mon," she laughed, "ya really think Travis could handle a lass like me?”

“Well, you think a man like me could?”

“Don’t know, darlin’.” Cait smirked, a teasing look in her eyes. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

And after an hour of thorough experimentation, Cait was happy to report that the answer was an astounding yes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the last honeymoon chapter. After this, Grant and Cait finally kick off their new married life! No spoilers but maybe it isn't the fairytale they'd thought it be.
> 
> Oh and that holotape miiiiiight just become important later on. 
> 
> Just saying!


	45. Little White Pieces and Little White Lies

"E-6?"

"Miss. Now c'mon, take it off."

"This game is fuckin' stupid." Cait sighed, fiddling with the clasps of her bra.

"Hey you seemed to love it when I was taking off _my_ shirt. I'm starting to think you just hate los-"

Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes went wide, and if she didn't know better, she'd think that he has just seen a ghost. But she knew better, knew her husband like the back of her hand and that look on his face wasn't fear or terror, no, that was just his "holy crap, boobs" face and his brain was going to need another 5 seconds to reboot. 

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1."

"Hm?" He asked, blinking rapidly as if he was soaking in his new surroundings. "What'd you say?"

"Nothing." She chuckled. "Nothing."

"Alright then. C-3."

"Hit." She grumbled, a little upset that she wasn't going to see what was underneath those boxer briefs. 

"Ha, you're so fucked!" He exclaimed, moving to grab a red piece. “Oh, by the way, I ran into Geneva yesterday and she wanted to know when we planned on moving. She said she already found a buyer for our place and apparently this guy was offering 3000 caps. Can you believe it? That's 1000 more than I bought it for! With those caps, we can get a crap ton of lumber, definitely enou-"

He stopped talking as soon as she realized she wasn't really listening, looking up to study that expression on her face. You see, Cait wasn't the only one who knew their spouse like the back of their hand and Grant knew that expression on her face almost as well as she knew his "holy crap, boobs" face. 

This one was different though. 

This one meant serious. 

And he didn't like serious. Cause this didn't _need_ to be serious, it was just moving after all. It wasn't like they were moving in together for the first time, this was just a different house, somewhere a little different, but it was still the two of them, same furniture, same having sex over all that aforementioned furniture; it was going to be great! 

But that look on her face told her that she didn't feel the same way.

And he didn't like the possibility of why.

But he had to say _something_ right? Something?

"What?" He asked innocently, trying to clear the suffocating silence. 

"Nothing. Nothing."

"C'mon baby, you and I both know you don't mean that. What are you really thinking about?"

Cait sighed and began to fiddle with the little white pieces on her board, adjusting them even though they were perfectly fine as they were. That was her nervous move, the thing she did when she was too scared to just stop, the thing she did in an effort to keep busy.

Oh God, she only did that when she was _really_ nervous, when things were _really_ bad and he couldn't imagine why. There had to be something more to this.

"Baby?" He asked, grabbing her hand gently. "C'mon, you know me, I won't get mad."

But that was a lie, wasn't it? Grant had more patience than most, but when he blew up, he _really_ blew up and it was never a pretty sight to see. She could tell he really wanted this, she had always known that. Grant had always been a "white picket fence" kinda guy, the type who needed a wife and kids and the perfect All-American suburban life. Now, she was never that kinda lass but when they first started dating, she didn't have to think about that, and was more than content to put it off for future Cait to deal with. Well, future Cait was now present Cait and there was no more putting it off, was there? 

No getting out of this one. 

And there was no point in trying.

"Seriously, it's nothing."

Grant shot her with a look, one that told her that he wouldn't be satisfied with such an awful answer. There was no way she would get away with another "it's fine" or "its nothing". So she did what she did best and lied, mixing a bit of truth in there to hide her true feelings of hesitation. 

"No, I was just thinkin' about how much booze could we buy with those caps. That bar of ours is goin' to be real stocked."

Cait could tell she said the right thing by the way relief washed over his face, a sign that he completely bought her little lie.

"Oh thank God." He sighed, body deflating from its former tensed up state. "I thought you didn't want to move or something, you really scared the crap out of me there. Don't worry about it, I'll make sure we're drinking the good stuff at all times."

"Sounds perfect to me love."

"So...you're cool with it? You're okay with us moving soon?"

"Yeah." She gulped. "Sure."

Cait couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret when she uttered those words, only to feel it wash away when she saw that giddiness on Grant's face. 

"Fuck yeah! Thank you babe, thank you, I'm gonna build you the best damn house in the Commonwealth alright? You can count on it. Now c'mon, let's play. C-2?"

There went her underwear. 


	46. 3 Sizes Too Small

“How da hell do ya spell appliances?” Cait asked, marker dangling between her lips.

“A, P, P, L, uh...you know what, maybe just write kitchen stuff instead. You can spell stuff right?"

“How stupid da ya think I am?”

“Stupid enough to marry me.” Grant smiled, as he rummaged through his closet. “Hey babe, you think this would look good on me?” 

He held up an old prewar t-shirt, one that was about 3 sizes too small for him. 

“Uh, where da hell did ya get that?” 

“I think my mom bought me this on one of our family trips to Nuka-World. Damn, I totally forgot about that place. This shirt has to be like 256 years old at this point!”

“Yeah, and you’re about 271 years too old to wear it.”

“Hey, I can totally rock this shirt if I have to.” He said defensively, clutching the shirt closer to his chest.

“Oh really? Why dontcha try it on?” 

“Fine, I will!”

Grant slipped the shirt over his head, desperately yanking and pulling just to get the damn thing to fit. He tried to do it as quickly as humanely possible, acutely aware of the fact that Cait was watching his every move, and probably laughing her ass off. After half a minute of tugging and contorting, the shirt finally slipped on, the neck of the shirt practically cutting off circulation to his head. 

“See?” He croaked. “Fits perfectly.”

“Oh yeah?” Cait smiled, shit-eating grin on her face. “Why dontcha pick up that box for me?”

He looked over at the cardboard box on the ground next to him, only a couple feet away. Normally he’d be able to pick it up over his head and throw it a hundred yards, but in this t-shirt? He’d be lucky just to be able to move his arms. 

But under no circumstances would he let Cait win, so hey, he was going to pick up that damn box if it's the last thing he did.

He began to bend down, only to find that he couldn’t move a single inch of his upper body without cutting off his circulation or ripping the shirt. Great. Is this what t-rexes felt like? 

Alright, different plan.

He carefully knelt down, arms still locked straight in place. His hands reached for the box, struggling to get a good grip on it. After fumbling for a little while, he picked up the box, a triumphant smile on his face as he stood back up.

“Thanks. Can ya pick up that one over there too while yer at it?”

Grant sighed and dropped the box in his hands, the items in there clanking loudly.

“Okay okay, you win, the shirt doesn’t fit. I guess I’ll just sell it to Becky then.”

“Ah just keep it. No one’s going to want to wear that shirt after ya’ve stretched it out so much.”

“Yes! Looks like the Nuka Cola shirt gets to see another year!” He cried triumphantly, only to deflate when he remembered the fact that he was trapped in this absurdly tight shirt. “The vertibird should be in a couple of hours, so I’m going to keep packing, good luck with your kitchen stuff.”

“Yeah yeah, ya better come help me when yer done.”

“I will, I will!” He promised, heading back into the bedroom.

Cait sighed and looked out at the sea of boxes in front of her, wondering how the hell she ended up here. It all happened so quickly, she never had time to fully process any of it really. One day, Grant asked if she was okay with the idea of moving, the next, they were packing their entire place up, getting ready to move out to the middle of bumfuck, nowhere. 

But now that she was finally alone, able to think about this whole thing without Grant’s influence, she started to wonder what the hell she had gotten herself into. Back then, she relished the occasional unexpected adventure, after all, what kinda gal didn’t like getting herself into a little bit of trouble? But this felt different, this... felt less like an adventure and more of a commitment. This wasn’t bashing raider heads in or blowing up super mutants, this was settling down. This was moving away from everyone and everything she knew and living the quiet life. 

This isn’t what she signed up for. This isn’t what she wanted.

But it's what she had. 

Great.

Cait sighed and kicked a nearby box, overcome with frustration at her shitty hand of circumstances. How the fuck did she let herself get into this? How the fuck did she let it get this far? In a blink of an eye, they had gone from a couple of badasses who were takin’ down the Commonwealth into a stupid old married couple who were moving out to the suburbs. You would think she would put up a fight or something, object to this whole domestication thing, but no, she just sat there and went along with the whole thing.

And honestly, that was for the best. 

This whole thing fucking sucked but it's what he wanted. It's what he wanted and it's what he would get. She loved Grant more than anything and at this point, she wouldn’t hesitate to die for him. So if she was willing to do all that, why the hell wouldn’t she just suck it up and move for him?

So she guessed they were doing this now.

Great.

Cait sighed and mindlessly chucked another pot into the box, eyes glazed over and dead. If you had told her a couple of months ago that this was what her life would become, she probably would have laughed right in your face, then slapped the crap out of you. But here she was. 

The things love did to a woman.

Just as she was really getting into the heart of her moping, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, followed by a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks for packing up babe.” Grant smiled, taking a seat on the cold floor next to her. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it.”

“No, seriously babe.” He insisted, taking her hands. “I really appreciate you doing all this. I know it hasn’t been easy, but with you, it feels a little easier.”

His eyes were filled with such genuine appreciation and love in that moment, a kind of love that she couldn’t believe he had for her. When he said things like that, she couldn’t help but feel terrible for ever complaining about moving and such. This guy loved her with all his damn heart and after all he had done for her, the least she could do was go along with this.

“Ya really mean that?” 

“Of course I do darling. You’re way more helpful than you ever give yourself credit for, you know? You’re pretty damn incredible.”

“Aw, now ya got me blushin’.”

Grant smiled and pulled her in for a kiss, holding her with a kind of passion that couldn’t be feigned. 

These were the kind of moments that made her wonder how she ever got so lucky, how she had gone from a hopeless, drug-addicted cage fighter into a happy, sober wife married to the goddamn Sole Survivor.

This kind of love, this kind of joy, it was enough to make Cait forget about all her qualms about moving and settling down, and she hoped it would always be enough.

It wasn’t.


	47. No Damn Radroach

“Alright, I’ll pop the popcorn and make the snacks, and you’re in charge of making drinks, that sound good to you?”

“Fine by me.” Cait shrugged, taking a sip straight out of a whiskey bottle. “Can’t promise I won’t dip into our supply though.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less of you darling.” He smiled, briefly stopping in his tracks to shoot his wife a knowing look. “Alright, I told everyone to come over at 7, which means Curie’s gonna be here at 6:15 and Hancock will show up wasted at 8:30, so you should start getting ready.” 

Cait sighed and rolled her eyes, the thought of any more unnecessary social interaction making her wanna take another sip of her drink. 

“Remind me why the hell we’re doing this again?”

“Well the gang hasn’t gotten together in a while, and I figured a movie night at our new place was the perfect excuse to hang out.”

She took another swallow at the sound of that, shaking her head in dismay. The gang. What fucking gang? Did he mean the group of his ex-girlfriend, a fucking synth, and a bunch of stuck-up assholes who thought she was a troublemaking whore who couldn’t keep it in her pants? They were no damn friends to her. 

But Grant... well, he was the best damn friend she ever and would ever have, and if he liked them so much, she supposed she could suck it up for a little while. 

With the help of a shit ton of alcohol of course. 

Almost as if on cue, she heard a curt series of three knocks, signaling the arrival of the one and only Curie. 

Time for another drink.

She hesitantly threw the door open, cradling a whiskey in one hand and desperately wishing she had a vodka in the other. 

“Hello mademoiselle Cait!” Curie chirped, her voice far too upbeat for this time of day. “I am so excited to be here! I love movies!”

“I’m sure ya do.” She sighed, trying her damn hardest not to roll her eyes too hard. “Suppose ya could come in, everyone else won’t be here for another hour.”

Cait watched as Curie looked around the house with wide-eyes, drinking in every moment as if this was the first time she had ever seen a house before. 

“Oh, this house is simply wonderful, mademoiselle Cait! It is amazing that monsieur Grant built it all by himself.” 

“Yeah, he really is somethin’, isn’t he? He’s in the kitchen making popcorn or some shite if ya want to go talk to him instead.”

“Oh excellent! I have a few research updates I would like to discuss with him. Thank you for your help mademoiselle!”

“Mhm. You enjoy that.” She murmured in response, already situating herself behind the bar. 

Cait felt a surge of relief as she watched the synth walk out of the room, only to deflate a few moments later. A couple of minutes ago, the idea of having small talk with a synth sounded like the worst damn thing in the world, but now that she was sitting here alone - nursing her second glass of whiskey in 5 minutes as she listened to Curie chat up a storm with her husband - she realized nothing could be worse than this. 

This fucking sucked. 

After spending so many nights drinking alone at the Combat Zone, she swore she wouldn’t ever put herself through that shit ever again, but here she was, living these exact same moments of misery, just in a new location. Getting hit on every single night was a fucking pain in the ass, but to be tossed aside like this almost hurt even more.

God, what the hell had gotten into her? Was she actually comparing getting passed up for small talk to being a raging Psycho addict who got beaten around by lunatics each and every day?

What the hell was wrong with her?

Yeah, this feeling sucked but if her biggest concern in life was that an egghead didn’t wanna talk science with her then she must have a pretty good life. And besides, there were more important things to worry about. 

Namely the fact that it was now 7 pm, and there was a slow trickle of people knocking at her damn door. 

Great.

“Cait!” Deacon boomed, arms spread wide in triumphant greeting. “How’s my favorite Irish badass doing?”

“I’m on my third whiskey tonight, so I’m clearly doin’ pretty fuckin’ great. You?”

“Well, I’m currently sober and I can already hear Danse going on another anti-synth rant in the kitchen, so _not_ great. Got any left whiskey to share?”

“Sure. But I’m not takin’ care of ya once I drink your sorry arse under the table.”

“Ha, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Cait tipped the bottle vertical, watching as the brown liquid rose higher and higher, swirling around the glass until it was nearly overflowing.

“Woah, feeling generous, are we?”

“What, can’t handle your liquor?”

“I can handle a drink, Cait. Not sure if I can handle 10.”

Cait laughed, shaking her head as she watched the Railroad agent try to keep his drink down. 

“Oh God, this stuff is strong.”

“Or maybe yer just weak. Ya think this is bad, ya should have tried the special at the Combat Zone. It was some cocktail made with tarberries that tasted awful but it’d knock ya out in a few sips.”

“And lemme guess, you finished 5 of them?”

“3 actually. Felt like shite the morning after though. Threw up all over my opponent.”

“Knowing the kind of folk that fight in the Combat Zone, they probably deserved it.”

“Yeah. Don’t remember his name, but he was an arrogant bloke who couldn’t stop calling me ‘sweetheart’. Kinda felt good seeing him covered in bright red puke.”

“Man, the last time I was covered in vomit had to be... 2278.”

“There has to be a story behind that.”

“You bet there is. When I was younger, I ran with a group called the University Point Deathclaws. Piece of shit group who were bigoted as hell, but they knew how to throw a good party. So one day, the leader of the Claws found this big barrel of scotch in some old abandoned bar. We drew straws to see who got to drink it, and just my luck, I won.”

“Lemme guess, it was a bunch of rotgut?”

“Worse, it was deathclaw piss.”

Cait nearly spat out her drink when she heard that, her entire body shaking with laughter. 

“Deathclaw piss? Yer kiddin’ me!”

“No joke. Couldn’t get the damn taste out of my mouth for a month.”

“Fer yer sake, I hope this is just another one of your made-up stories.” She chuckled, taking another sip of her whiskey. 

This was...nice. 

Don’t get her wrong, Deacon was no Grant, but even if he couldn’t hold his liquor, he was real damn good at holding a conversation, and for the first time all night, she could finally feel herself relaxing. 

As they chatted more and more, she began to see things in a different light, understand things she hadn’t before. She had never understood the whole “friendship” thing, could never see why some people had the incessant need to hang out with other people so much, but... she could get used to this kind of thing. Grant was still, and always would be her best friend but having a few drinking buddies like Deacon to talk and share a drink with didn’t sound so bad. 

She could get used to this.

But before she could, Grant walked in, his presence automatically drawing the attention of everyone in the room like it always did.

“There he is! Mr. Grant McKay, the man of the hour!” Deacon laughed, immediately rising up from his barstool to greet him. 

“Hey! Deacon!” He smiled, pulling him in for a hug. “How have things been at HQ?”

“Same old, same old. You know, Dez just...”

Cait didn’t hear the rest of the conservation, or at least she tried her very best not to as she turned her attention to the glass she had in her hands right now. Anything to take away that sad, pathetic sinking feeling she had in her heart right now. 

She should have known better. 

The hell was she thinking, getting her hopes up and thinking people actually wanted to be friends with her? There was a goddamn reason she had been alone her whole life and it was fucking stupid to think that would change just because she was married to the sole survivor. 

Her moment of self-pity was suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice, the only damn voice she wanted to hear tonight.

“Hey, now that everyone’s here, we can finally start the damn movie.” Grant chirped, both hands cradling a tub of popcorn.

“Wait hold up,” Piper objected, “where’s Hancock?”

“Probably getting strung out on some Jet.” MacCready snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll catch him up when he shows.”

And just like that, they all filed into the living room, Cait keeping a tight grip on her drink, knowing full well she’d need it to get through the night.

“Monsieur Grant, What film will we watching tonight?”

“Titanic, it's an old pre-war movie about a ship that sank after hitting an iceberg. Broke a bunch of box office records at the time.”

“Fascinating. Did the ship’s captain follow proper evasion and docking procedures?”

“Danse, shut up and watch the movie.” MacCready groaned, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Affirmative.”

===

**_“You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise.”_ **

**_“I promise.”_ **

**_“Never let go.”_ **

**_“I promise. I will never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.”_ **

“Booo!” Deacon cried, tossing an empty tub of popcorn at the screen.

“That doesn’t make any sense. There was clearly enough room for both Jack and Rose to fit on the door.”

“The problem, monsieur Danse, is not the size of the raft but the buoyancy. The door would not be able to support the weight of the two of them without tipping over.”

“No, the problem isn’t the door,” MacCready objected, “its the goddamn acting! I don’t know who the hell those two actors are but they suck at their jobs.” 

“Agreed.” Preston nodded. “I bet the general could do a better job.”

“I don’t know about that guys, my 11th-grade theatre teacher told me my rendition of the Tempest was one of the worst things she had ever seen.” 

“Give it a try.” Piper insisted. “Here, I’ll be Rose and you be Jack.”

The reporter leaped out of her seat and laid flat on the ground, her face suddenly growing dramatic and weary. 

“I can’t feel my body.” She whimpered, body shaking with mock hypothermia. 

Grant sighed and shook his head playfully, feigning refusal before ultimately deciding to play along.

“Rose, listen to me. Listen. Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. And I’m thankful, Rose. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what promise me now, and never let go of that promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never let go.” 

“I promise. I will never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.”

And with the final line, Grant’s head fell to the floor, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in an exaggerated expression of death. Once he finally peeked his head up, he was met with raucous applause, the entire room exploding with cheers.

But that wasn’t what he was looking for. His eyes automatically darted over to his wife, whose eyes were glazed over in that “I’d rather be anywhere but here” kinda way. He knew that look like the back of his hand and he knew exactly what was going on in her mind. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He smiled, taking a cursory bow. “Now I...oh hold up, do you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I think I hear something coming from our bedroom. Sounds like a radroach or something. Cait, come with, we should go deal with it. You guys stay here, feel free to complain some more about the movie.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he took her by the hand, hastily dragging her to the bedroom. 

Once they were finally alone, he shut the door behind them, much to the confusion of Cait. 

“Don’t know what the hell you were hearin’,” she muttered, “there’s no damn radroach in here.”

“You got me.” He admitted with a casual shrug. “I just needed an excuse to be alone with you.”

“Why?”

“I just...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all night. This whole time, I’ve wanted nothing more than to just stop this whole thing, pull you in close and tell you how much I love you and how you’re my favorite person in this entire fucked up world.”

Cait sighed and rested her forehead on his chest, relishing those words she needed to hear so goddamn badly. How he always knew exactly what to say was a mystery to her, but it didn’t mean she’d appreciate it any less.

“You’re my number one Cait. My best friend, my wife...you’re the most important person in my life. Now and forever.” 

“I...I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”

The two stood there for a while, holding each other close as they basked in their love, Cait warmed by his wonderful reassurance. 

He loved her. Even if the world was more than happy to treat her like a second choice, he loved her, and he loved her more than anything. And to Cait, a woman who had grown used to having no one her entire life, that was all she needed. 

But after a few minutes, she spoke up, asking a question she just couldn’t figure out.

“But...why’d ya have to lie about a radroach to tell me that?”

“Well,” he smirked, “I also couldn’t stop thinking about this.”

Without warning, he crashed his lips into hers, hungrily kissing her as if there was no tomorrow. 

She soon felt a hot breath on her neck, then a brush of his deliciously soft lips. For a man who liked to take things slow so often, he wasted no time today, moving his hand up to her chest as he pushed her onto the bed, using his free hand to hastily take off his shirt.

Cait couldn’t help but smile uncontrollably as she felt him rip off her jeans, his lips pressed to the nape of her neck. She didn’t need a drinking buddy, another best friend, or any other one night stand, because this man right here, was all of that for her. And he was all she ever needed, for the rest of her life. 

===

“I do fear that monseuir Grant and mademoiselle Cait have been injured while removing the radroach from their bedroom.” Curie fretted, nervously looking around the room.

“No, what makes you think that?” Deacon laughed sarcastically. “The fact that they’ve been MIA for over a half an hour now, or the noises coming from the bedroom?”

“Both! Their prolonged absence combined with the fact that they seem to be in a lot of pain leads me to believe they are in danger and must be checked on!”

“Curie,” Hancock chuckled, removing the lit cigarette from his mouth, “they ain’t injured, they’re going at it.”

“Going at it? I am not familiar with that term.”

“Sex.” Valentine clarified. “They’re having sex.”

“Oh.” She murmured, taking a second to process this new information. “I see. Well, considering the fact that the Commonwealth population is at a fraction of what it once was, I believe they are doing a very noble thing.”

“If you say so.” MacCready sighed, taking another handful of popcorn. “Just turn up the volume, will you? If I hear Grant moan one more time, I’m gonna shoot the damn guy.”

“That is not advisable monsieur MacCready. Like I said before, the population i-“

“Curie, let’s just finish this damn thing alright?” Piper interrupted. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Danse affirmed. 

And with that, the crew painfully finished the rest of the film, constantly cranking up the volume in a desperate attempt to drown out all the explicit noises coming from above them. The moment the credits rolled, they all leaped from their seats, hastily making their way out the door as they swore never to come over for another late night gathering again.

That suited Grant and Cait just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to toot my own horn, but this is definitely one of my favorite chapters of the whole series so far. I had a super fun time writing chapter 47 and I hope you guys had just as much fun reading it!
> 
> P.S. I'm writing the ending chapters now and I think you're gonna both like and hate what I have in store for you. No spoilers but things...get intense
> 
> See you next Wednesday!


	48. More Than Just Sleeping

It was a late Friday night and like all late Friday nights, the Commonwealth’s favorite couple was breaking in their bed in style and raising one hell of a ruckus during their late-night rendezvous. Ever since they had tied the knot, they could hardly keep their hands off each other, going at it like they did when they first started dating.

Marriage always seemed overrated to Cait, but she had to admit, ever since the two had gotten hitched, she could feel the excitement coming back in their relationship and she was feeling things she never thought she’d feel again. Each and every day, she woke up with damn butterflies in her stomach, the same way she felt back when she was first falling for him. Except now, the feelings were far more intense because now, she was his and he was hers and there was nothing, nothing, in the world that could top that feeling. 

Well maybe except the feeling of Grant’s head between her legs. 

His touch, his words, his eyes, everything about him was driving her crazy and she just couldn’t get enough of him these days. And goddamn did it feel good to have his body on hers, and hear those naughty things he was whispering in her ear. She was so damn engrossed in him, she didn’t even notice how much time had passed until they heard a rapid thumping at the door. 

“Shit.” Grant muttered under his breath. “Where’s my shirt?”

He began desperately searching the room, upturning cushions and opening drawers that hadn’t been opened since they had been built, in a scramble to get his shirt back. 

“Hello?” The voice said, still knocking on the door. “What’s taking so long?”

“Just a minute!” He called out, sticking his head under the bed. “Where the hell did you put it?” 

“It’s right here you moron.” She scolded playfully, tossing him his shirt.

He hurried to put it on, quickly motioning for Cait to hide as he ran up and opened the door.

“Elder Maxson.” He murmured in disbelief. “What are you doing here so late, sir?”

“What the hell took you so long, Paladin?”

Grant worked to find a believable excuse, still struggling to get his head around the whole lying thing. 

“I was sleeping, what else could I be doing at 1 am?”

“I’m not sure Paladin. But considering the fact that your shirt is on backwards, I assumed you were doing something more than just sleeping.”

Fuck. Why the hell didn’t he check to make sure it was on right?

“I...sleep naked. It’s more comfortable that way.” He said, pressing his lips together. “A-anyway, what’s so important that you had to make a house visit this late, sir?”

Maxson looked up for a second, his eyes showing the slightest hint of sadness. For a man who never smiled, laughed or showed any sort of emotion besides anger, this had to be pretty damn bad. Whatever was going on was goddamn serious. Really goddamn serious.

“Paladin Danse has gone missing.” 

“What?”

“Yesterday, Proctor Quinlan was finally able to complete the decryption of the data you retrieved from the Institute a while back. A portion of his findings included a list of synths that went missing or escaped from their underground facility. After careful analysis of the information, we’ve discovered something... unprecedented. Paladin Danse is a perfect match for one of the synths on that list.”

“Holy fuck.” Grant murmured, unable to keep his shock in. “That’s impossible!”

“I’m afraid not. The evidence is quite damning. Quinlan wouldn’t have brought this to me if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain of the results.”

“So...what’s the next move?” 

“Our mission in the Commonwealth is clear. The Institute and its creations need to be destroyed in order to preserve our future. Which leaves me facing the most difficult order I’ve ever given.” He paused for a moment, his gaze wavering ever so slightly. “I’m ordering you to hunt down Danse and execute him.”

Maxson must have seen the shock and hesitation in eyes because shortly after, he followed it up with another statement. 

“This isn’t a request that requires an answer, Paladin. This is a direct order, and I expect you to follow it without question. Proctor Quinlan hasn’t been able to find any concrete information about his location and Danse’s intimate knowledge of the Commonwealth means he could be anywhere. Because of this, Proctor Quinlan and I think your best approach would be to identify every location he’s ever visited and eliminate them as possibilities one by one. This will be quite a long journey, so I recommend you to get started as soon as possible. Report to the Prydwen with his dogtags when you’ve found him. This mission is to be kept _confidential_ and you are not to travel with or mention this to anyone outside the Brotherhood. Good night Paladin.”

And with that final note, Grant slowly shut the front door behind him, his mouth still gaped open in shock. He looked over at his wife, only to see that the shock in his eyes paled in comparison to the anger in hers.

“I can’t believe Danse has been lying to yer face this whole damn time! I should have known he was a synth bastard all along.”

“Woah woah woah, you hear that whole thing, and _that’s_ your first reaction?”

“Well that and the fact that Maxson practically sentenced ya to a half a month of wanderin’ the Commonwealth alone.”

“Oh fuck, I didn’t even think about that.” Grant murmured, burying his face into his hands. “A whole two weeks without you. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with myself.”

“Ya’ve got a right hand, use it.”

Normally Grant would jokingly roll his eyes and call her an idiot, but in this moment, his face remained unmoved, still flushed with worry and exhaustion. 

Okay, maybe this called for something better than a masturbation joke.

“We’re gonna be alright, darlin’, don’t worry.”

“No, its not going to be alright, I have to go roam the whole damn Commonwealths for weeks on end in search for my former mentor who happens to be a synth, so I can fucking exe-“

“Oy, look at me.” Cait snapped, her sudden sharpness immediately drawing his gaze towards her. “Yer goin’ to be fine alright? Ya took down the whole damn Institute, and ya can take down one testosterone filled synth too.”

“I just...I don’t know if I can do it Cait.” Grant whispered, tears at the brim of his eyes. “Danse took a chance on me when no one else would, brought me into the Brotherhood when I was just a pathetic vault dweller, he...God, how can I kill him?”

He was only able to hold out for a few moments longer before he began sobbing, his entire body shaking with emotion. It was only then that Cait understood what Danse meant to him and just how much Grant cared about this guy. For her whole life, if there was someone that needed to be put down, there was no hesitation on her part, but as she watched her husband weep violently, she was really beginning to rethink that. Life and death, something that seemed so simple to her, just got a whole lot more complicated. 

“Look, I don’t know what yer goin’ through and I won’t pretend to, but I know that ya’ve made tough decisions before and that ya can do it again. I know you’ll do the right thing, whatever it might be.”

Grant sighed, wiped the tears from his face, desperately trying to compose himself.

“It’d sure be a hell of a lot easier if you were there with me, you know? You always make me feel better about this kind of shit.”

She fought back a smile upon hearing that, her heart warmed to hear how much she meant to him. 

“I just...” He continued, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go that long without you.”

Cait saw the distress on his face and knowing not a single damn thing she could say right now would fix anything about this shitty situation, she turned to the thing she did best. 

Mind-blowing sex.

“I know nothing can change what’s goin’ to happen, but why don’t I make your last night with me as enjoyable as possible?”

Grant shot her a weary smile, and so the night resumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once Grant and Cait's relationship began, I did my best to avoid any quest-based storylines and instead decided to focus entirely on their relationship. But as you can tell, this storyline is about the Brotherhood quest, Blind Betrayal, and the next 4 (!) chapters are all about Grant hunting down Danse. Though not romance related, this storyline is fundamentally important to Grant and Cait's relationship, and after this, things go down. Like, really down. No spoilers but...damn. 
> 
> I hope you stick around to see the end of it, and I can't wait to share the next two chapters with you next Wednesday. See you then!


	49. Is It Sex?

Grant sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his gun as he desperately tried his best not to projectile vomit everywhere. 

The mere thought of leaving his wife to go murder one of his best friends was enough to make his stomach lurch and he had no fucking clue how he was going to do actually do it. His bag had been packed with two weeks of food and drink, two pistols were holstered to his hips and the sun had already made its ascent to its rightful place above the horizon, illuminating the wonderfully beautiful horrors of the Commonwealth. 

In other words, he was ready, yet his mind and heart were anything but. If it were up to him, he’d stay here the whole day, perpetually stuck in this state of awful uneasiness. Yet lucky for him, he was married to someone with a whole lot more willpower than him.

“Darlin’, you’ve got to get goin’.”

“I know, I know.” He murmured, his voice laced with a knowing urgency. “I just...I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’m not exactly happy to see ya go either, ya know?” Cait sighed. “But the sooner ya leave, the sooner ya can finish, and I’ve got a surprise waitin’ for ya when ya get back.”

“Is it sex?”

“Even better.”

“Two sexes?”

“You'll never find out if you don’t go.” She insisted with a smile, her hand resting on top of his thigh. 

Grant nodded, knowing full well that he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. Taking Cait’s face into his hand, he slowly pressed his lips into her, kissing her with an unbelievablely tender passion. 

“I love you.” He whispered, trying his damn hardest not to cry in this moment.

“I love ya too darlin’. Now c’mon, get out of here. Before I start missin’ ya too much to let ya leave.”

He slowly rose from his position on the bed, taking one long sorrowful look at his wife before finally heading out the door, not to return for another half a month.

===

Grant stared out at the icy, frozen tundra ahead of him, desperately trying to get his bearings in a sheet of white. Where the hell was he supposed to go, where the hell was he supposed to start? He stopped to think about it, to try and rack his brain about where his former mentor could be hiding, but soon the pain of thinking about Danse and what he had to do to him became too much, and all he could do was walk forward. 

It was funny really, during his time in the military, it had been drilled into his head to never get too emotional and to keep a strictly analytical mindset when it came to missions. Heh, if only his former drill sergeant could see him now. 

All he could think in this moment about was all Danse had done for him when he was new to the wasteland, and how close the two had gotten over the years. All their missions together, all the time spent fighting side by side... all down the drain. For what? The more he thought about it, the less he became convinced he could actually pull the trigger and kill him. How could Maxson expect him to murder one of his closest friends in cold blood, just because he was a synth? He was no synth sympathizer, but despite all he had seen and all he had been through, he still had a heart, and wouldn’t put a friend down just to meet some bullshit Brotherhood guideline. 

Then again, Elder Maxson was a powerful man with a short temper, and he was not one to tolerate insubordination. He had a full fleet of vertibirds and soldiers at his side, and if he wanted to make Grant’s life a living hell, he could do so with ease. The mere thought of Maxson doing anything to hurt Cait was enough to scare him half to death and was more than enough motivation to make him consider going through with it. 

God what to do, what to do?

He wandered for hours, his mind pounding too hard with thoughts of Danse, Cait and Maxson to care about his aching, blistered feet, or his nearly frozen hands. In some way, he was following through with what he had done for years before Cait came along, putting his own well-being on the back-burner as he tried to so desperately to please everyone else. Yet he knew Danse and he knew Cait, and he knew he’d do anything for them. But as the sun began to set on the Commonwealth, he knew that for the first time in a while, his decision would affect more than just himself. 

It was a cold moonless night, the sky dark and low, the air so chilled it hurt to breathe. Already the ground was laid white with frost and any water that had been liquid under the winter sun had become ice. The sleeping bag that had been hastily stuffed inside in his bag did little to warm him up as he curled up on the filthy concrete, his hands buried deep within his armpits. 

The road back home just got a lot harder. 


	50. Finally Home

Grant woke up in a cold sweat, icy beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He instinctively patted down his completely soaked shirt, trying to make sense of the world around him. Cait. Where the fuck was Cait? Panic began to set as he realized he was alone, his body wanting to hyperventilate but quickly stop upon feeling that fire in his chest. 

God, what a shitty fucking night. 

With a slight hesitancy, he got up and put away his sleeping bag, trying to ready himself for another day in this fucked up wasteland. And just like that he was back on the road, faced with an impossible choice. Did he go back and admit defeat? Or did he cross the entire state of Massachusetts with nothing but a couple of pistols to go find a power-armor loving synth who betrayed Maxson?

At first thought, it seemed ridiculously obvious. Risk certain death to execute one of his best friends or go back to the comforts of his own home and his amazing wife? I mean, c’mon.

But the more he thought about it, it more blurred the lines became. As much as he romanticized it, he knew exactly what would happen when he got back. He would enjoy the sweet embrace of Cait for a little while, but eventually, Maxson would discover what he had done, send some other Brotherhood yes-man to kill Danse and resent him for the rest of eternity. Nothing would get better if he didn’t press on, yet he risked certain death if he did.

Certain death it was then.

National Guard Training Yard, the next location on his checklist, was a 48-hour walk away and as he was trekking through the snow, he tried so desperately to convince himself that he could easily make it there in two days if he just kept walking and powered through any pain.

It became much harder to convince himself of that nine hours later, when the cold had sapped every ounce of willpower he had left in him and his feet were raw and covered in blisters. 

“Fucking hate the snow, fucking hate the snow.” He murmured bitterly, doing everything he could to push forward. 

He’d been repeating this mantra for the entire 9-hour walk, but the more he forced the words through his cracked lips, the less it became about anger and bitterness and more about keeping himself awake. He squinted his eyes, searching the darkness for a roof to sleep under tonight, but was met with nothing but the never-ending void of darkness. Every attempt he made to push forward was met with heavy resistance from his body. He walked like his limbs didn’t really belong to him and each step was a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurt now. Every damn thing. Eventually, his body forced himself to sit down, back against an old oak tree.

He pulled his jacket a little closer to his body, suddenly hit with a terrifying realization.

He wasn’t waking up tomorrow morning. 

The cold kept getting colder and at this rate, it’d suck all the heat from his body if he let himself sleep.

His body refused to push on any longer, and it was too far late for him to turn around. No matter what he did, he was dead. Frenzied panic began to sink in at the thought of that, not out of any urge for self-preservation or survival, but out of the fear of what would happen to Cait if he never returned. After all they had been through, after everything he had to conquer to find her, this couldn’t be it, it just couldn’t. He needed to get back to her, he needed to tell her how much he loved her, hear her tell him how much of an idiot he was. God he’d do anything to hear her voice, just one last time. 

Wait, the holotape. The holotape!

With drooping eyelids and slow-moving hands, Grant quickly worked to fetch the holotape he tucked into his bag this morning. 

“C’mon. C’mon.” He muttered desperately, his fingers locking up as he tried to insert the damn tape.

He stared intensely at the screen waiting for the message to load, his heart soaring at the sound of his wife’s voice.

_***crackle*** ***crackle*** Oy, is this thing on? Fuckin’ machines. Look, this is my fifth damn time recordin’ this, so forgive me if it sounds like utter shite alright? I just wanted to record somethin’ sweet for ya to listen to...do something nice and romantic for ya like ya do for me. Now, I’m not all good with words like ya are, but I’ll try my best. ****Sigh**** Grant, how da hell do I tell ya how much I love ya? How da hell am I supposed to describe how damn happy ya make me? When ya found me at the Combat Zone, I was fuckin’ miserable, lonely as hell and had half a mind to blow my own damn brains out. Now look at me. Ya sobered me up, taught me how to love and make me happier than I ever deserve to be. I never thought I’d settle down but goddammit it, I can’t wait ta spend the rest of my life with ya. The thought of you and me kicking ass for the rest of our lives? I couldn't imagine anything I'd want more. Alright, Travis is lookin’ real nervous now, so I guess I’ve got to end it here, but I love ya alright? And I promise I’m gonna give ya the ride of ya life when I get back. Love ya McKay._

Grant leaned back, hot tears running down his face as hit repeat, his brain savoring every single second of her gorgeous voice and beautiful words. Cait...Cait. God, he loved that woman. Her words had sent him down memory lane, and before long he was reminiscing on everything they had been through together. It seemed like just yesterday that Tommy shoved that contract in his face and wished them the best of luck as he sent them on their merry way. He hated her then, she hated him too, and at that point in time, it was hard to see them ending up as anything more than begrudging acquaintances. But she opened her heart up to him, and he did too, and somehow, through months of impossible courting, she agreed to be his. And she was his for a while. And life was good. But that wasn't the case anymore, was it? He was dying now, about to fade into the long dark, forever lost to the brutality of the Commonwealth. He had feared death his entire life, spent so much time trying to avoid it, yet as the recording looped, he became comfortable with the idea of dying right here and now, growing satisfied with it all. 

He did everything he could, pushed himself past the brink of exhaustion, and tried his gosh damn best to save as many people possible. He had done enough. And he had lived enough. The last few years had been the absolute best of his life, and he was damn glad to have lived them. In a couple short years, he took down the Institute, met the love of his life, learned to trust again. Maybe this was it, maybe his life ending here, but fucking hell, he had made it this far hadn’t he?

And that was more than enough for him.

He hoped Cait didn’t miss him too much. He hoped she forgave him for never coming back like he promised. He hoped that someday she’d meet a man twice as kind as he was someday and that she would learn to love again. He hoped she would never forget him. 

Fucking hell, he was going to miss that woman so much.

At least he would get to see them again. Nora, Shaun. God, it had been so long.

So damn long.

Grant McKay was coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Was this the end? Was he really about to die? Of course he wasn't. It was Grant McKay after all, the goddamn Sole Survivor. He could be strung up by his underwear on a 20 foot pole, hands and legs bounded, surrounded by hungry mongrels and super mutants and he'd *still* find a way to end up on top." - Falling in the Fallout, Chapter 29
> 
> On another note, hi everyone! As of today, I've finished writing the entire series! That's right, all 67 chapters of Falling in the Fallout have been written and edited! All that's left is for me to post it. Now as glad as I am to have completed it all, this does bring up somewhat of a dilemma. If I continue with my current posting schedule of one to two chapters a week, the final chapter won't be posted until mid to late April. I could start posting more frequently, but that also runs the risk of screwing up the flow of the story and overloading you with *too* much Cait and Grant. For this reason, I'm heavily leaning towards sticking with the current posting schedule, but I wanna hear from you guys as well. If you have any opinions about my future posting schedule, let me know in the comments! Would you prefer me to post more frequently or stick to what I'm doing now? And if you do want me to post more frequently, how would you want me to distribute it? A new chapter every day, four to five chapters on Wednesday? I'll make sure to take any and all feedback into consideration!
> 
> Regardless, I'll see you all next Wednesday! The next two chapters I post will mark the end of this Blind Betrayal storyline, and start our slow march towards the ending of this series! See you then!


	51. Rest Well, Old Friend

Alright, so he wasn’t dead. 

But with the way his stomach was squeezing his insides, he kinda wished he was. He hadn’t eaten a real meal in three weeks, slept soundly since he left, and was pretty sure his body was actively trying to kill him. But he was close, he could feel it. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to be close.

Because for three weeks now, he was able to put off thinking about Danse and what he was ordered to do to him, push it off in the name of survival. But as he lurched further and further towards Listening Post Bravo, the last location on his list, the issue began to infiltrate his mind more and more, and it was eating him up.

This wasn’t worth it, he knew it wasn’t.

There were a lot of things in life worth giving everything for: defeating the Institute, Nora, Shaun, Cait, but this? Didn’t even crack the top 100. It seemed unbelievable really, all this excruciating hunger, this blistering cold, this mind-numbing misery, and for what? He was leaving the one thing in his life he’d give everything up for all for one angry old man.

God, he was so sick of being someone’s bitch. 

Danse didn’t deserve to die and he knew that fucking well, he knew the right thing to do was to spare the synth’s life. But Maxson was bound to take his anger out on him and his wife if he didn’t obey and Cait...Cait didn’t deserve to suffer for her husband’s cowardice either. 

God what the fuck what he supposed to do?

There was no turning back now, was there? He had come too far to do anything else; he had a decision to make and he had to make it fast. His heart began to beat faster and faster the closer he got, eventually culminating in a heart-thumping symphony once he saw the silhouette of the military base.

Here went nothing. 

With an uneasy hesitance, Grant stepped into the building, his head on a swivel. His eyes began to fixate on the crumbling walls, filthy floors, and the giant puddle of filthy water in the center of the room, wondering how a man who prided himself on cleanliness could ever live here. In fact, he was so focused on the dilapidated conditions that he failed to notice the man standing right behind him, the one he had spent a month looking for.

“I’m not surprised Maxson sent you. He never liked to do the dirty work himself.” 

“Danse.” Grant murmured, still trying to get accustomed to seeing him like this. “I wish...I wish you would have told me the truth.”

“I might have, if I had known what I was. Until Quinlan got that list decoded, I thought synths were the enemy. I never expected to hear that I was one of them. If it wasn’t for Haylen, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. So what are your orders? Does Maxson even want me alive?”

“No, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Seems obvious to me.”

He stopped and took a look at the former paladin, shock all over his face and he stopped to think about how easy this all seemed to him.

“Danse, this isn’t all that cut and dry to me. You took me in when I was still just a vault dweller, yo-“

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a synth!” Danse snapped, his voice showing a sort of anger he had never displayed before.

Instinctively Grant stepped back, thrown off by this sudden display of rage. With a wearied sigh, Danse’s face eventually softened, his tone taking a more familiar sound.

“Look, I’m not blind to the fact that we’re good friends and this must be very difficult for you. But we both know that this is the right thing to do. If you refuse to follow Maxson’s orders, you’re undermining everything the Brotherhood stands for. I can’t allow that to happen on my account.” 

Grant stared into the eyes of his former mentor, his eyes revealing how comfortable he was with the idea of his death. 

He wished he felt the same.

How could be so okay with this? This decision, this idea of Danse dying had consumed him, eaten at his conscience each and every day, and here he was, just accepting it. Danse was loyal to the Brotherhood, no doubt about that, and it was natural for him to feign some confidence but the scary part was, he seemed as if he truly believed every word he was saying. As if he truly felt loyal to the values of an organization that saw him as an abomination and wanted him dead. 

“Danse I...”

“Both of us know that if Maxson learns that you’ve disobeyed a direct order to save the life of a synth, he’d have you executed. You can’t risk that. You and Cait have a family to raise and I’ll be damned if I’m the one who prevents that.”

Cait...a family...

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Danse’s words were hitting right where they hurt, and the more he thought about the sight of his gorgeous wife holding their newborn baby, the more his hand inched towards the gun holstered on his hip. 

“Synths can’t be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that’s run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction. I need to be the example, not the exception.”

“But these emotions you’re showing me, the things we’ve been through...they’re human. Maybe synths aren’t the enemy after all.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do soldier, but I’ve made my decision. I’m ready to accept the consequences of my true identity and it’s time you do too.”

With a slight nod and a tight-lipped smile, Danse dropped to his knees, arms out in a display of surrender.

“It’s been an honor serving with you, soldier.”

Grant looked into Danse’s eyes and saw nothing but rock-hard fearlessness, a man truly content with everything he had done. Hesitantly he placed his hand on his pistol, mulling over whether or not he could do it, if he could actually kill his best friend. There was no other option though, was there? This decision, no matter how awful and fucked up it was, was the best one. Killing Danse would satisfy Maxson, fulfill Danse’s wish and preserve Grant’s future hope of raising a family with Cait. This wasn’t how he wanted things to be but maybe, just maybe this was how it needed to be. With shaky hands and tears in his eyes, Grant raised the gun, staring at his former mentor’s hardened face through the sight. 

“I’m sorry Danse.” 

_***BAM*** _

Grant dropped his pistol the moment the bullet found its mark, his mind completely blanking as he stared out at Danse’s bloody, lifeless body. 

Dead.

One of his first friends in the Commonwealth, his Brotherhood sponsor, his best friend, his brother, dead, cold and lifeless. Because of him. 

What the hell had he done? 


	52. Forward, Onward Progress

He couldn’t stop.

No matter how dark the sky got, no matter how much snow came falling down, no matter how much his fucking legs hurt, he couldn’t stop walking. Up and down he went, trekking through the mile-high snow, his blistered, fatigued legs screaming in pain, as he pushed onward. 

Forward. Onward.

Away from Danse’s cold, lifeless body, away from the heartache of having to kill his former mentor in cold blood, away from it all. The moment he stopped walking, the moment his brain shifted away from thinking about the mind-numbing cold, it was over. He would be a broken, sobbing mess, just as he was moments after he had done the deed. He couldn’t even bring himself to leave the military base for days afterward, and once he had finally composed himself enough to head over to the Prydwen to hand over Danse’s dogtags, a full month and a half had past since he had left home. 

His wife had to be so goddamn worried by now.

In fact, his wife was the only thing keeping him going, the only thing worth trekking through his hellhole for. That image of Cait with their newborn baby, that...that was the only thing worth pushing on for. Everything else he had, the new house, the Brotherhood, his other friends, all did jackshit to combat the never-ending misery and regret that plagued him every hour of every day now. His real refuge, his real reason for it all, was waiting in that little house just a couple of miles ahead.

Grant checked his pipboy, the only source of light in this blacked-out wasteland, only to see it flashing 3:23 am. Normally him and Cait would be in bed by now, fresh off a couple glasses of scotch and a few hot kisses, sleepily whispering naughty things in each other’s ears as they drifted off to sleep.

Who knows what his wife was doing now? Knowing her, she was probably sitting on the porch with a whiskey in one hand, shotgun in the other, cursing him out for scaring her half to death. And as he began to approach the house, he could have sworn that she was right there as he imagined it, shotgun and all. Alas, it was just his severe sleep deprivation playing tricks on him, and there was no shotgun-wielding Cait in sight. Hopefully, that meant she was sound asleep by now.

But as began to draw closer to their bedroom, he couldn’t help but get the same feeling he did when he first saw her cutting, and for a moment, he had feared the worst. He cracked open the bedroom door just a bit, not enough to let in too much of the light in, just wide enough to see if she was awake. The whole room was a darkened blur, but he swore he could see her curled up on their bed, clutching something in her hands. He poked his head further into the room, out of sheer curiosity for what it could be. It’s only when he stepped in that he heard the hushed whimpering and the thing she was holding.

In her hands was a light green t-shirt, _his_ light green t-shirt, the Nuka-World one that was about 3 sizes too small for him. He had thrown it in the back of his closet when he unpacked, relegated it to never be seen again, but here she was, holding it like someone would rip it out of her hands at any moment. Her freckled face was buried deep in the folds of the unwashed fabric, her body stirring slightly in unrest.

“Hey baby.” He whispered softly, body leaned up against the door frame. 

Without a second of hesitation, she immediately jumped up and whipped the shirt behind her back, eyes full of jumpy paranoia that could only be developed through years of abuse. For a second, she wore a mask of surprise, seemingly genuinely shocked that he was standing in her doorway at 4 am after disappearing for a month and a half.

“Grant.”

Before he knew it, she leaped out of bed and sped towards him. Before he could outstretch his arms to accept her embrace, she wrapped him up in one of her signature bear hugs, burying her head into his neck, the feeling of her hot breath on his skin warming him up like the fireplace never could. 

“I thought you were dead.” She murmured, a level of emotion in her voice that he had never heard before. 

“Came close a couple times, but not even death wants to take this ugly motherfucker.” He chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of her red waves.

They stayed in each other’s embrace for nearly two minutes, relishing what they had been deprived of for weeks. Eventually, she let him go, quickly snapping back into the overprotective badass he had grown to love. 

“What the hell happened? Ya were supposed to be back a month ago.”

With a shuddered breath and hurting heart, he began telling her of the hell he had gone through. 

===

When he finished recalling all the tortuous events of the last month or so, he looked up at her through teary eyes, only to be met with a gaze that could warm up the coldest of hearts.

“I...I’m sorry ya went through all that. I know that must’ve been difficult for ya. I’m just glad you’re back now.”

With a gentle, loving tenderness, she took his chin into her hand, kissing him in a way that helped him forget everything he had been through, even just for a second. Once she pulled away, he spoke up, needing so desperately to say the thing that had been on his mind for so long.

“Babe right before...right before he died, he started to talk about you and how...how if I disobeyed Maxson’s order, I’d be putting our chance to have a family at risk. And as much as I hate to admit it, he was right. Everything I’ve been through the past couple of weeks combined with the fact that I nearly died back there...it just...it made me realize how badly things need to change.”

“Change?” Cait murmured, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. “What do ya mean by that?”

“This reckless adventuring, all this putting myself at risk, it worked fine when I was a bachelor with nothing to lose, but now that I have you, I’ve realized that you and our future family are worth everything and that I can’t be putting that at risk every day. I think we need to settle down babe, put the ass-kicking days behind us. You and our future child comes before everything.” He said with a smile, his eyes full of wonder.

Before Cait could even utter a word of objection or rebuttal, Grant sighed and shook his head, suddenly rising from his position on their bed. 

“Anyway, I should go clean up, it’s been a month since I’ve taken a shower, I probably smell like shit. I love you babe, I...I’m so glad I’m back.” He smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom. 

As the thought of what he said began to really sink in, Cait was beginning to wish he hadn’t come home at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I apologize for the brevity of these two chapters, I figured quest-based storylines aren't as riveting as pure romance ones, so I wanted to keep it short as possible so we could move on towards the ending chapters. Lucky for us, all future chapters relate and build towards the ending and not to toot my own horn, but the next chapter is one of the best in the series so far (in my opinion) and also one of the longest. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I've also decided to make a major change to my posting schedule. From here on out, I'll be posting two chapters a week, one on Monday and one on Friday, to help speed this whole thing up without rushing the story. Once again, thanks for reading and I'll see you all this Friday!


	53. Fuckin' Stories

Cait stared into the flickering flames with a vacant gaze, watching as the little sparks floated up and away into the air. Much like her look, there was an emptiness inside, her entire body slack. She swore that she had been through this exact moment before, many times actually. In fact, this was the exact feeling she felt that night. 

That night she almost took her life.

She hadn't thought about that day for a while now, at least, not voluntarily. Sometimes she'd wake up in a sweat after reliving that faithful night, her body trembling at the thought of that sleek shotgun in her hand, her lips wrapped around the muzzle. But after the memory of _that_ faded away, all that was left was the memory of how desperate and lonely she felt that day, the deep-set agony that drove her to nearly take her own life. Despite the fact that she hadn't had that night terror in months, she could feel that very same misery sink into her soul tonight, for reasons unknown. 

Well, not unknown. And not just tonight. Truthfully, she had felt the misery creep in for weeks now, and deep down she knew exactly why she was so unhappy. 

Grant.

For weeks she had tried to find some other explanation, one that wasn't tied to the supposed love of her life, the one who was supposed to fix her. She had tried _everything_ , tried to cram puzzle pieces where she knew they didn't belong, tried to blame everything under the sun for her recent spout of depression, but to no avail. And when her shitty alibis and excuses faded away, all that was left was the soul-crushing realization that Grant, not hormones or moving or Preston, was the reason behind it all. 

Not intentionally of course, Grant would never do anything to hurt her, she knew that. As terrible as she was feeling right now, she knew that it wasn't the result of some evil, sinister plan, like how it was with the raiders and slavers. Grant was a good guy, a really good guy, which was probably why she was so hesitant to pin any allegations onto him. Grant was a good guy, and good guys... good guys don't make people miserable. They’re supposed to be the heroes right? The ones who heal, not hurt?

But the reason really didn't matter because fucking hell, was she hurting right now, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was directly because of _his_ actions, intentional or not. He had changed since they first started dating and that change, _that_ was the source of all her pain. Well...not change exactly. Grant was the same Grant he always was, but the "American Dream" side of him -the one that needed that perfect suburban life- had started to emerge recently and it was starting to suffocate her. She had hoped that his little “we need to settle down” speech was just a facade, a temporary attitude from having to execute Danse, but it had become clear that this new Grant, the one who talked about their future child all the time, was permanent and here to stay. 

The beauty of Grant, when they first started dating at least, was that around him, she felt comfortable. Like for the first time in her life, she could truly be herself. He had managed to knock down the walls she had spent years building up and she really, really thought it'd be that way forever. But it wasn't. Because soon after they got married, those walls began to be rebuilt, slowly but surely. And now? It was like they had never been knocked down in the first place. It started nearly immediately after he had come back from finding Danse, right when all the settling down shit started up. 

When things started changing. 

When Grant, the goofy, ass-kicking badass she had come to know and love became Grant, the uptight, fatherly husband whose biggest priority in life was what kind of wainscoting he should use for the bathroom. 

Ugh.

So here she was, sitting outside in the cold, all alone, staring blankly into a stupid campfire instead of being inside their newly built house, warm from the touch of her lover. 

She liked it better this way.

Cait turned her attention to the bottle of whiskey she had in her hands, studying the label like it had the secret to life or something. It was feigned interest of course, she had never given a crap about the ingredients in the brown poison she was drinking and she definitely wasn't about to start now. But it wasn't the actual bottle that mattered, it was more about having something to do. She knew there was no putting it off anymore, she knew that damn well. No more running away, no more hiding, she actually had to sit down and think about this stuff. But at the end of the day, people never change right? She had spent a lifetime running away from her problems, and after all that time, after everything she went through, here she was, doing the exact same thing she had learned to do as a little toddler. 

Funny how life worked. 

But it turned out that whiskey labels weren’t great reading material and you can only read the words "saturated fats" a couple times before you start going crazy. 

So. 

Grant. 

What the hell was she supposed to do now? 

She loved him, of course she loved him, that was a given. No matter what happened, no matter what he said or did or wanted, she loved him, and she knew a part of her always would. She could never forget how he saved her life, how he gave her everything when she was nothing and she would always, always love him for that. But that was in the past now, wasn't it? 

When things were different. 

Now they were married. Now they had a new house, away from the city, all ready for the kids Grant was so sure they would have. 

His expectations were so fucking maddening.

She had never signed up for this, never agreed to all this housewife crap and if she had known that this was how things were going to end, she wouldn't have gotten herself in this mess in the first place. She never wanted to get married, never wanted to have kids, never wanted to settle down, but that didn't matter to him, did it? He never fucking bothered to ask her about all this, did he? Her slave contract had been burned up years ago, but she was still fucking doing another man's bidding.

Fuck.

She had spent months trying to avoid thinking about this and now she could see why. Because now that she was _really_ thinking about it, she couldn't get over how fucking selfish Grant was being. How the hell was she supposed to go in there and sleep next to a man who had no regard for her own wellbeing? How the hell could she even look at him?

But what the fuck was she supposed to do now? 

Leave? Walk out on a life long commitment? There was nothing stopping her right now, absolutely fucking nothing. In less than 5 minutes, she could have all her shit packed, and in 30 more, she could get to the outskirts of Commonwealth. By the time he woke up, she'd be long gone. But could she do that? Could she really just walk out on him like that? There was no going back from a decision like that, was there? It seemed like a no brainer right now but what happened if she eventually cooled down and wanted to work things out? What the hell was she supposed to do then?

But how could she stay? How could she sit idly as Grant roped her into his prewar suburbia fantasy? She couldn't just go along with this mess, that's exactly how she ended up in this shitty situation in the first place. Besides, with the way Grant had been talking recently, she knew it wouldn't be long until he impregnated her. 

Great. Fucking great. 

She couldn't leave, she couldn't stay, so it looked like she was left to do the same thing she'd been doing her whole life: stay miserable and pray for better days. 

She was beginning to think about it again, you know? 

Cutting. Psycho. 

As self-destructive as it was, it was familiar. Comforting in a fucked up way. She thought about it a lot, almost as much as she did leaving. And just like leaving, escaping like that felt like a betrayal to Grant of some sort. And as stupid as it was, it was one of the main reasons she didn't indulge herself in those past escapes. Because at the end of the day, she loved Grant just as much as he hated him, and there was still a part of her that just wanted to please him. She supposed a part of her blamed herself for this mess, a narrative that she had trusted her entire life. No, it didn't make much sense, but like cutting and drug abuse, it was reliable. It was her sick, twisted way of coping, and it gave her some sort of control in an uncontrollable world. If she was at fault, she could fix it. If she was at fault, there was a clear villain, something that could be conquered. Because you couldn't conquer drifting apart. You couldn't conquer different life plans. There was no one to blame in that situation. No one was at fault. Neither of them would be an evil fairytale villain, just two adults, stuck in reality, dealing with problems more real than any of the lies they wanted to tell themselves.

Fuck.

It was at that realization that Cait stopped, stopped letting her brain ramble on towards some grand, fairytale conclusion. Because there was none. That was it, wasn't it? Just two people, who had fallen out of love, who clearly didn't make sense anymore, staying together in the hope of some fairytale ending. 

Fucking stories.

Cait kept her eyes on the flames, not out of empty pondering but out of burdensome contemplation, her chest sinking with the grief of reality. The entire night she had been wrestling with different solutions, frustrated that none of them made complete sense. But now that she had one, she'd give anything to go back to the old ones, the dramatic, romanticized escapes she loved indulging herself in. No matter how much she tried to talk herself out of this, tell herself it was just as stupid as the other ideas, it just made too much sense to deny. 

But dear God did she want to.

Because this one wasn't fun. This one hurt both of them, and not in the fun, spiteful sort of way. This would be a different sort of grief, a heartbreak that would destroy the two of them completely. Cait ran through how it would go down in her mind, another way she fought to give herself the illusion of control. No matter which variables she changed, it always ended up the same, Grant utterly shattered from the loss of his second wife, Cait completely desolate without a single hope in the world. Somehow this hypothetical situation her brain had conjured up managed to terrify her more than reliving her past traumas did, a feat she never thought could be accomplished. 

Fuck that shit.

There was no way she was going to entertain fucked up shit like that, she had suffered enough tonight. Raising the glass bottle to her lips, she tipped her head back, furious when the whiskey came out in a slow dribble instead of the steady stream she wanted. 

Fuck.

She tossed her bottle into the flame, watching as the glass shattered into a billion little fragments. Burying her head into her hands, she sucked in a deep breath, her breath shuddering in her lungs as she did. A drink, all she wanted was a fucking drink, a little burn to keep the thoughts at bay. Just as her mind began to wander back into that pissed off place, a voice cut through the mess, the one voice she didn't want to hear.

"Hey." 

She jerked her head up, letting out an even deeper sigh when she saw him standing in the doorway.

Great, just great.

What the hell did he come here to do, start another argument? Beg her to come to back to bed? Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it. Her anger turned to curiosity when she saw the things in his hands, that curiosity into relief when she realized it was scotch. Neat like she liked it, strong like she needed it.

He knew her so damn well.

And that night, he seemed to know exactly what she needed right now and for the first time in ages, they just let it be. So there they sat, scotches in hand, sipping it slowly as they watched the flames flicker, saying a lot through nothing. 

This night, this moment, felt eerily similar to that night he first saw her cutting herself, that night she first started trusting him. It was funny though, how different this moment felt to the original one. All the elements were the same but something was broken, something was...wrong. The silence that felt so freeing back then seemed to suffocate her under its heaviness now, and unlike before, when the silence stemmed from not _needing_ to say anything, this one felt empty, like they both needed to say something but couldn't bring themselves to do it. 

Scary part was, she had no clue what Grant wanted to say. That hadn't been the case in a real long time.

After a little while, Grant's words became predictable in a way, and she could guess nearly every word that would come out of his mouth before it ever did. It was fun at first, a neat little trick of some sorts, but after a while, it crushed her. Because that was it, wasn't it? There was nothing about Grant McKay that she didn't already know. Nothing left to explore. That was part of the fun of dating, getting to know this wonderfully complex human in a way most people didn't. But he wasn't so complex anymore. He was... incredibly plain actually. To most of the Commonwealth, Grant was a hero, a mysterious vault dweller who had grown to legend status, a caricature that whose heroic tales would be passed on through the generations. How would they react if they knew how he picked at his teeth after dinner or his love for afternoon cat naps? 

Cait never saw him in that way, never looked at him like some big hero or whatever. But a part of her hyped him up in a way, romanticized him as something greater than he was. Maybe that's why his normalcy sucked so much. Maybe that was her fault. Grant was who he was and...that also sucked. 

Grant couldn't help but be Grant and even though it sucked sometimes, there was still something about his mannerisms she couldn't help but love.

"Ah, that's the good stuff. Goes down smooth doesn't it?"

"Yeah." 

Any other person would have gotten the hint and ended the conversation right then and there but Grant was never one to quit, and would do everything in his power to figure out what was wrong. She couldn't tell if it was sweet or fucking annoying. Maybe it was both. 

"Anyway, it's cold out here babe, come back to bed."

"I'm fine out here. Don't mind the cold."

"Alright. Let me stay out here with you then."

"No, it's fine, just go back to bed, there's no nee-"

"Cait. I love you." He said with a gentle smile, taking her hand. "I love you and there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here, by your side. Even if it's fucking freezing." 

Goddammit. Now why'd he have to go and say that? Every time she thought she could finally bring herself to hate him, he just had to be all Grant-like and remind her why she fell for him in the first place. 

"It really is fuckin’ freezing." She muttered, shaking her head with a little smile on her lips. 

"Gotta love Massachusetts in the winter right? I certainly do. I could see your damn nipples from the doorway." 

"Jesus!" Cait laughed, moving her arms to cover her chest. "You're a damn pervert, ya know that?"

How the hell did he do it? How the hell did he always manage to cheer her up and make her laugh, even when she was in the worst of moods? Goddamn asshole. 

"No!" He said sarcastically, eyes locked onto her chest. "I'm not a pervert, I'm an admirer of fine things and those boobs sure are-"

"Alright, alright!" She interrupted, nearly doubling over in laughter. "I get it, you're horny. C'mon, I wanna see your 'holy shit, boobs' face."

"What? That's not a thing."

"Oh yeah?"

Cait grabbed the bottom of her oversized t-shirt, flipping it over her head and exposing her breasts to the freezing cold.

She watched as Grant's eyes went wide, and mouth went slack, drool practically pouring out. 

"Told ya." She said smugly, pulling her shirt back down.

"Hm?" He questioned, throwing his head back once the realization sank in. "Ah fuck. Alright, you got me. Well if it looks anything like your bedroom face, it's probably hot as hell."

“Yer shittin' me."

"Am not. Wanna go see?"

It was funny really. After an entire night dedicated to questioning everything under the sun, this answer she knew. 


	54. A Declaration Gone Airborne

Grant rubbed his hand up and down the back of his wife, watching as she puked out everything in her stomach. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill Vadim." He muttered under his breath. "What the hell was I thinking, ordering food from the Dugout?"

His train of thought was broken by a velociraptor like sound, Cait's body shaking as she retched up another round. 

"Baby, we've got to get you to Doctor Sun, you're so damn sick."

Even though she was currently spewing out vomit at an alarming rate, she still managed to eek out a rebuttal, head shaking in protest.

"Okay, okay, not Doctor Sun. How about Curie? I'm sure Curie could fix you up."

She continued to puke but wasn't repulsed enough by the idea to object. So Curie it was.

Cait always complained about how much of a weirdo Doctor Sun was, and Grant could never really understand why. Sure he was a little too serious, and had some truly awful facial hair but he wasn't really "weird." And even if he _was_ weird, he was only a stone's throw away from the home. At...at least he used to be. Sometimes, he forgot they were way out here, in the middle of nowhere. The view was gorgeous, and it was nice to get away from the noise of the city, but when your wife was puking like there was no tomorrow, the view didn't really matter did it?

Sanctuary, where Curie was, was at least two hours away now, and carrying his sickly wife all that way would be actual hell on Earth. Luckily for him, toiling for the Brotherhood had its perks and one of those perks was the handy dandy ability to summon a flying helicopter whenever he pleased. Hooray!

Grant quickly grabbed a vertibird grenade from the top of his dresser and tossed it outside, watching as the orange smoke rose for a moment before returning inside. 

"I just called the vertibird babe, it should be here in a couple minutes. You think you could hold your puke in for half an hour?"

Cait poked her head up from the toilet bowl her head had been buried in all day, giving him a stink eye before quickly returning to vomit again. He took that as a no. 

The house began to shake ever so slightly, and a strong breeze came through the window, signaling the arrival of the vertibird. 

"Okay, how about 15 seconds? Just get into the vertibird and you can puke out the sides."

Grant took Cait under his arm and carried her out, her entire face ghostly white, with bile dripping from the sides of her mouth. Still gorgeous as ever.

"You." The lancer growled. "I specifically asked Elder Maxson never to be assigned to you again."

"I don't give a shit what you want." Grant said with a scowl, loading Cait onto the vertibird. "My wife is sick and you're gonna take me to Sanctuary so she can get treatment."

As if right on cue, Cait puked out another round, half of the vomit making its way onto the ground, half hitting the vertibird floor. 

"First PDA and now puke? You're disgusting."

"I'm also a paladin, and unless you want to get demoted back to Initiate, I suggest you shut the fuck up and keep flying."

With an eye roll and a couple murmurings, the vertibird took flight and Cait's vomit became airborne. 

Grant always loved vertibird flights, always loved the view from up above. But he could hardly focus on the tiny people and buildings when his wife was drenching the Commonwealth in her puke. He really was going to kill Vadim for this. 

The air during the ride was heavy and reeked of sickly sweet garbage, no one in the vertibird daring to utter a damn word. With a terribly sick wife in tow and a pissed off lancer shooting him constant dirty looks, you can only imagine how happy he was to see those broken down suburban houses. 

"We're here. And if you ever fly with me again-"

"What makes you think you're ever gonna fly again?" Grant scoffed, fighting to be heard over the roar of the engine. “I’m sure Elder Maxson would love to hear my detailed report of your insubordination. Have fun scrubbing the Prydwen."

The lancer's face dropped as the vertibird began to ascend and for the first time today, Grant couldn't help but smile. Until a big chunk of vomit landed on his boot.

Great. 

"Curie!" Grant called out, head on a swivel as he looked for the French doctor. "Curie!"

"Monsieur Grant! Have you sustained injuries?"

"It's Cait. She's been vomiting all morning. I think it might be food poisoning or something, I'm not completely sure."

"Not a problem monsieur, I can-"

"General!"

His head swung around, looking for the source of the voice. It belonged to a young Minuteman, a new recruit who's face Grant didn't quite recognize. 

"What is it?"

"The Castle..." he pants, "the Castle...the raiders."

It's clear the poor guy had run here, and it was even clearer that he had terrible stamina. From what Grant could make out, something had happened at the Castle, something involving raiders. 

"Is it urgent? Is Preston there?"

"Preston... he asked me to get you."

"Well, can it wait? My wife is sick and-"

"You've got to come...it's bad...so bad...the raiders... it's about to be a massacre." 

Grant's eyes lit up at that word, his heart suddenly dropping. The situation must be _really_ bad if Preston was summoning his presence right now. Looking over at Cait, then back at the Minuteman, his heart began to race, trying to decide whether to stop a slaughter or help his vomiting wife. Curie, apparently seeing the concern on his face, took the slumped over Cait into her arms. 

"Do not worry monsieur. I can take care of mademoiselle Cait by myself. Monsieur Garvey needs your assistance and you should get to him at once!"

"Are you sure you can deal with her by yourself?"

"I am quite confident in my capabilities."

Grant gave his wife a weary look, pressing his lips to her forehead before running off in the direction of the Castle.

===

Cait clutched the plastic trash can like it was a lifeline, body swaying slightly as she fought to keep it down.

"While the quality of Monsieur Bobrov's food is questionable, I do not think it is the cause of your sickness. However, it is possible you have contracted a case of food poisoning from somewhere else. Have you eaten anything recently?"

"Haven't eaten much since I've gotten sick."

"You must be quite hungry then! Do you want something to eat?" She quipped, grabbing a mirelurk omelet from the fridge.

"No, no." Cait insisted, shaking her head wearily. "Get that thing away from me. It smells disgustin'."

"Then how about some Sugar Bombs? Perhaps some Cram?"

Cait retched at the mere thought of that, burying her head further into the trashcan.

"Hm. Based on your visible symptoms, it does not seem like you have food poisoning. I am quite sorry for being so blunt, but when is the last time you and Monsieur Grant had sexual intercourse?" 

Sex? Why the hell was she asking her about sex? Now that she thought about it, it had been a little while since they've gone at it. In fact, it was probably the first time in their relationship that they weren’t banging every night. Could you blame her? It was pretty hard to do anything intimate when you were grappling with the fact that you had fallen out of love with your husband. But that night, the night when she had realized what went wrong, that was the last time they had sex. Three weeks ago was it?

"Three weeks ago, I suppose."

"Three weeks? Curious, most curious. Do you have any other symptoms?"

"Guess I've been a little tired recently. And sometimes I wake up with a headache or somethin' but that's probably because I'm hungover."

Curie pondered everything she heard for a moment before a wave of realization hit her.

"Mademoiselle, have you considered the possibility that you're pregnant?"

===

"The rest of them are hiding in the armory!" Preston cried out, aiming his laser rifle at another raider.

Grant quickly hopped over the radio table, making a beeline towards the armory room. He aimed his rifle at the first thing that moved, accidentally burning a hole in a nearby dresser before eventually hitting the last raiders standing. And just like that, the fight was over, the bloody massacre stopped right in its tracks. 

"I'm glad you got here when you did General. This could have ended up like Quincy."

"Well, I'm glad too. Look, I'd love to stay and chat but Cait's sick and-"

"No need to explain. It's nice to see how much you care about your wife. I'll see you around general."

He gave Preston a weary smile, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before returning to his wife. 

God, he hoped she was okay. 

===

Grant nearly collapsed by the time he reached Sanctuary, exhausted from sprinting the entire way. 

"Curie!" He panted, grabbing the synth by the shoulders, trying to prevent himself from actually fainting.

"Oh monsieur, congratulations!" Curie beamed, wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

"Congratulations? For what?"

"You should find out for yourself." 

With a cocked eyebrow and dour look on his face, Grant cautiously headed inside. Much to his surprise, Cait was no longer puking her guts out, rather, she was now sitting peacefully on the couch, her head buried in her hands. 

"Hey, you're not vomiting anymore!" He said cheerily, moving closer to her. 

His happy demeanor dropped when he saw that her body was shaking ever so slightly, a choked noise emanating from her chest. Was she...crying? 

"Babe? What's wrong?"

Cait refused to answer, her body shaking even harder now. Grant wanted to press for answers but judging her current state, he wouldn't get much of a reply, or at least not a satisfying one. So he didn't. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest as he kissed the top of her head. 

"Whatever it is, I promise, we'll get through it. Together."

Her body began to shake even harder at those words and only heightened Grant's fear of what had happened. Did Curie find something? Did Cait get diagnosed with some horrible disease? Was she dying? But if that were the case, why would Curie congratulate him? She didn't have a single mean bone in her synth body, and there was no way she would fuck with him like that. So what the hell could it possibly be? He fought to keep a calm outward demeanor as his mind raced with lists of deadly illnesses, only for it to stop immediately once Cait peeked her head up. His breath stayed still in his lungs as he waited on her words, the words that would either ease his mind or make it race even faster.

"Grant, I..."

He examined her red, splotchy face, a clear indication she had been crying for a while now.

"I'm pregnant."


	55. Nothing But Empty

"You're what?"

"Don't make me say it again." She begged. "Don't."

"Okay so, y-you're pregnant. You're pregnant." He murmured, voice laced with awe and excitement.

Grant took a moment to process what he had just heard, letting the weight of those two words sink into his chest.

"You're pregnant!" He repeated, leaping out of his seat, placing both of his hands on top of his head. "Holy fuck, you're pregnant! We're gonna have a kid, we're-"

"No." Cait croaked. "We're not. 

"What?" 

"I can't...I can't have this baby."

"W-what? Why not, I asked you before if you we-"

"I know what I said, Grant!" She yelled, her tone a mix of anger and hurt. "It's just...I can't do this."

“You...s-so you're going to abort it?" 

Cait nodded slowly, eyes locked onto the vomit splattered floor beneath her. Grant stared blankly at the space in front of him, mind blank as tried to process the extreme rollercoaster ride of emotions he just went on. In a little more than 30 seconds, he had gone from his highest high to his lowest low and now he was just stuck here in this deep pit of onset misery. His chest began to tighten the more he thought about it and it wasn't long before he began to cry. Uncontrollably. There was so much he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to say. He wanted to yell, he wanted to weep, he wanted to pray. But all he could manage to croak out in between his sobs is a solitary "why", a small fragment of all the words swirling around his mind.

"You know why." Cait responded. "You know I didn't want this. 

"You said you were okay with it, you said-"

"You knew I didn't really mean that. You knew it deep down but you dragged me into this anyway, you-"

"That's not fair Cait, you can't...you can't do this to me."

"You did this to me! You did all this shite to me!"

Grant opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again, exercising his better judgment. This was more than ammunition enough to start a fight, they had started fights over way less, but he couldn't take it today. He couldn't take another blow up, especially not right now. He couldn't take another fight, but he also couldn't stand to be in here with her anymore, which left only one option. 

Leaving. 

Like he always did right? Like he did whenever things got bad. Could their relationship even stand another departure? Grant scoffed at that idea, like their relationship couldn't take _this_ either. But as upset and broken as he was right now, he couldn't just leave his pregnant wife alone like this, he had more decency than that. But God, he could hardly even bear to look at her at this point. This was gonna be one long walk home. 

And it was. 

Grant couldn't help but constantly glance over at her stomach, and Cait couldn't help but notice his incredibly obvious glances. 

His unborn child was in there, the unborn child he was supposed to raise up and love. The unborn child who he was supposed to teach to talk and read and how to ride a bike. The unborn child he had already formed a connection to. The unborn child he was never going to meet. It was Shaun, all over again.

Cait didn't see it that way though. 

To Cait this was just a piece of Grant's masterplan, another piece of his grand suburbia scheme. She wasn't fit to be a parent, and she had known that from the moment that bitch of mother gave birth to her. She knew that when she started falling for Grant, knew it when she agreed to date him, knew it when she agreed to marry him, and she knew it when she agreed to move. 

He didn't.

He couldn't get it through his thick skull, could he? He just _had_ to push his luck right? Couldn't be satisfied with his crap ton of caps, his wife or his giant custom-built mansion, no, he just _had_ to have a kid right? Guess he couldn't get over his little fantasy of having Nora and Shaun back. 

It was exactly what she feared when the two got married and for months she was forced to watch it play out. But it ended right here. Right fucking here. As soon as Curie could operate on her, she was getting this damn thing out of her, once and for all. But until then, she supposed she would just have to suck it up and try to deal with the emotional puddle she willingly married for some reason. That sad look in his eyes told him that she'd need a crap ton of alcohol for this. Grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge, she quickly popped off the cap, eagerly pressing it to her lips. She could practically feel its cool refreshment before the bottle was snatched from her hands. 

"Oi, what the fuck do ya think you're doin'?"

"You're pregnant, you can't drink alcohol." He sternly reminded her, placing the bottle onto the kitchen table with a little more force than necessary. 

"It's not like I'm keepin' it," she scoffed, "why does it even matter?"

Grant opened his mouth to utter a witty retort, only to immediately shut it when he realized he didn't exactly have one. She was right after all, there really _was_ no reason to care about birth defects if she wasn't keeping the baby. Maybe a part of him still hoped he could convince her otherwise, prayed she'd have a sudden change of heart. 

And Cait knew he'd do it. She knew he'd beg, bribe, threaten, _anything_ in his power to convince her to keep the damn thing. And this time she wasn't falling for it. No, she wasn't going to let herself fall for his charming words and puppy dog eyes again. She had gone along with the marriage and the moving but this was where she drew the line. No, she wasn't going to let any stupid crotch demon ruin her life. 

"Just don't drink any alcohol or do any chems until you finally...do it." He swallowed, unable to even say the word. 

"So that's it?" She asked, a little amused at the whole thing. "You're not going to try to change my mind or anythin'?"

"I can't tell you what to do with your body. If you're deadset on this, then I can't make you do otherwise."

There was a deep-set sadness in his voice, a kind of dejection that she had never seen in him before. It was like he had given up. That was so unlike him. Grant was never one to throw in the towel, never one to give up on things he cared about. She knew she said that she wouldn't change her mind about this but something about his demeanor made her feel so damn bad for the guy. Or maybe this was part of his damn plan. Maybe this was his new way of guilting her. But still, part of her couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as she looked over at the emptiness in his eyes. 

Empty. Huh.

That word, that stupid little word, just summed it all up didn’t it? Wrapped all this shit up into a little neat, 5 letter box. 

Empty.

It's what she felt back when she realized she had fallen out of love, that her supposed “savior” was the actual root of all her problems. 

Empty.

What she felt back when she found out she was pregnant, that her worst nightmare had come true. 

Empty.

What she felt right now as she thought about it all.

Empty.

Nothing but empty.


	56. So What Do You Wanna Do With It?

Cait sighed and tried to rub the tired out of her eyes, taking a quick glance at the clock beside her bed.

2:34 A.M. Fucking great. 

God, she could really use a beer right now.

Against her will and her better judgment, she had gone completely cold turkey from chems and alcohol last month and was finally at her damn breaking point. She was so damn tired of taking addictol every day to keep the cravings at bay, so damn tired of being a vessel for this stupid crotch devil, so damn tired of it all. 

Fuck it.

If anyone earned an ice-cold beer, it was her. Fuck Grant’s rules, fuck this stupid pregnancy, fuck it all. She was getting her drink and no one was fucking getting in her way. Not Grant, not this stupid baby, not even God himself.

Cait stumbled out of her bedroom, grappling her way around in the pitch-black dark. God she fucking hated this new place. What good was having a bar in the house if she couldn’t find it? Sure the old place in Diamond City was a whole lot smaller, but it only took her a few days to learn the layout of that place. Her frustration only grew as she ran into walls and counters that seemingly came out of nowhere, but fucking hell was damn set on getting her beer tonight. So no matter what this goddamn universe threw at her, she was going to stumble through this giant labyrinth and get her damn beer, and you could count on that. 

A rush of dopamine shot through her brain once she finally laid hands upon the fridge, the first bit of happiness she had experienced in months. 

She took the Gwinnett Ale into her hands, clutching the sweating beer bottle like it was a damn gold mine. Her mind surged as the beer slid down her throat, gulping it greedily as she thirsted for more. Fucking hell, this was so damn pathetic, wasn’t it? This stupid moment, drinking a beer alone in the dark was her best one in months. Maybe a few months ago that would have bothered her, but God, she couldn’t give less of a fuck anymore. She really couldn’t. This was the only damn thing she had, and no amount of self-deprecation was going to take this away from her. So you know what, she was going to sit here in the dark and drink herself till she blacked out. 

Then the lights came on. 

Cait’s head jerked towards the light switch, her entire body deflating once she realized who it was.

Grant.

Of course. 

She watched as his eyes shot down to the glass bottles in her hands, her eyes rolling as she waited for his lecture.

It never came. 

Instead, he just stared at her with those sad, bloodshot eyes, his entire face sunken and splotchy.

Wow, he really looked like crap. 

It’d been a while since she actually took a look at her husband, hell, it had been a whole month since they had a real conversation. They’d been doing their damn best to ignore each other since they found out she was pregnant, which wasn’t hard in this giant maze of a house. She stuck to her bedroom and the bar and he stuck to his bedroom and the roof. It worked out better this way. It was easier pretending the other didn’t exist than actually facing the problem. Fine by her, she didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But damn. She didn’t know he had gotten so bad, that he had let himself go like this. In a span of a month, he had lost everything that made him, him. The man standing in front of her looked like a broken shell of the man she fell in love with, the man she married. The old Grant would have pitched a fit, forcibly take the beer out of her hand, and lectured her into oblivion but... he wasn’t. He was just standing there, empty. Broken. 

They had been staring at each other long enough for it to become awkward and she knew she had to say something. 

But what? They hadn’t talked for an entire month, and what the hell do you say in a situation like this? She knew she couldn’t walk away either, she could feel in the air that their relationship was on the line in some sort of way. Heh. The tiny shred of their relationship that was left. Cait racked her brain for something to say, something to break the icy walls between them. But it was Grant after all, and Grant? Grant was fucking weird. And he always knew exactly what to say, at exactly the right moments. 

“How’d we fuck this up so badly?” He murmured, his lips pursing in that sad little way. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugged dejectedly.

She didn’t know if she really meant that. Regardless of the reason, things had gotten bad, real bad. After all those years together, after all the time they spent evolving, they had reverted to their old selves, the stupid broken ones. Grant was the sad, broken man who had lost everything and couldn’t cope, and Cait was the sad, broken lass who only lived for the next beer or dose of Psycho.

Back when things were simpler. 

But ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t going to cut it right now. ‘I don’t know’ was how they got into this mess in the first place and an ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t going to get them out of it. For the first time in months, they had to confront their problems, head-on. _Everything_ was hanging in the balance. 

“Do you wanna fix it?” He asked. “Fix whatever the fuck is going on between us?”

“Depends on whatcha mean by fix. If ya mean hugging it out and pretending like it's all fine then no. But if ya really wanna fuckin’ fix this mess, then let’s do it.”

“Yeah, let’s really fucking fix this.”

“Fine.”

The two fell silent again, staring at each other with a little more aggression than before. Great. This was really going to fix it. After a couple moments of stunned silence, Grant piped up, stunning her with his bluntness.

“So when’d you realize you didn’t love me?”

Damn, never one for subtlety right? 

There was something about his point-blank approach that really pissed her off, made her want to rebut his question instead of just sucking up and answering it. 

“When’d you realize ya wanted to rope me into your stupid suburban lifestyle?”

“C’mon,” he moaned, “don’t ask me stupid questions like that, we’re not going to get anything done.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me? You’re the one askin’ dumbass questions, don’t put the blame on me.”

“No, it’s an honest fucking question Cait, answer it.”

“Answer mine first.”

“I asked you first, answer mine.”

Cait narrowed her eyes, wanting so desperately to shoot back with a scathing comeback. It’d be so damn satisfying, and so damn easy, but she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t play this game anymore, this stupid on and off game of fighting and ignoring each other. She was never one to take the high road, never one to be the bigger man but she had to suck it up, there was too damn much to lose. 

“I never stopped lovin’ ya Grant.”

“You haven’t talked to me in an entire month, I call bullshit.”

“Me lovin’ ya doesn’t change the fact that you’re bein’ an asshole.” She retorted, unable to resist herself. 

Taking a deep breath, she settled down, calming herself enough to respond clearly, free from the anger bubbling in her chest.

“But I never stopped lovin’ ya. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop. I’m not sure I ever will honestly.”

Cait looked down at the tile beneath her, the one Grant put in a few months back. She remembered how happy they were that night, how they laughed and drank and ended up passed out on the floor. One of the last good memories she had with him. God, she wanted that back so badly. She wanted nothing more than to pick up right where they left off and keep loving him like nothing had ever happened. But she knew that wasn’t possible. She knew that things would never be the same between the two.

It was funny how a couple of months could change so much. 

“I never stopped loving you either.” He croaked, voice trembling so much, she could tell he was on the verge of tears. “I never stopped loving you and I never stopped wanting to love you but it's all gone to shit and-“

“Calm down McKay, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

She could visibly see his train of thought stop right in its tracks, his eyes blinking rapidly like he was soaking in what she had said. 

“Um, okay so, so... we both love each other. That’s good, right?”

“Depends on what we do with it.”

“So what do you wanna do with it, Cait?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you go folks, that's the last chapter before the ending! But wait, you ask, there's 11 chapters left, is the ending really that long? Ha no. 
> 
> Many of you were wondering how I could possibly end this thing, and well, I couldn't, at least not in the traditional sense. There were just too many ways this could end, so instead of writing 1 ending, I've written 7. I've sorta made this whole process unnecessarily complicated, so I'll do my best to explain how this all works. 
> 
> From this chapter, I envisioned Cait having 3 possible responses: a good one, a realistic one, and a bad one. I figured we oughta end this whole series on a good note so I'll start with posting the bad response next Monday. From that bad response, there are 3 final endings that correspond to it, also good, realistic and bad. The same thing goes for the realistic response. The good response is unique in that it only has one ending, due to the fact that I really couldn't bring myself write anything but a fairy tale ending for Grant and Cait. 
> 
> Does any of that make sense? If that sounded like total gibberish to you, I'll put it in a more concise way.
> 
> 1/18 Bad Branch (Cait responds negatively to Grant)  
> 1/22 The Bad-Bad Ending  
> 1/25 The Bad-Realistic Ending  
> 1/29 The Bad-Good Ending
> 
> 2/1 The Realistic Branch (Cait responds realistically to Grant)  
> 2/5 The Realistic-Bad Ending  
> 2/8 The Realistic-Realistic Ending  
> 2/12 The Realistic-Good Ending
> 
> 2/15 The Good Branch (Cait responds positively to Grant)  
> 2/19 The Good-Good Ending
> 
> If you have any questions, ask me in the comments and I'll do my best to answer them! See you next Monday for the first ending chapter!


	57. You Haven't Changed At All

Cait swallowed hard, her brain refusing to say the thing she knew she needed to say. She knew this is how it would end up, knew there was no other solution but God it was so damn hard to say it out loud. Because she didn’t want this, didn’t want it to end up this way, and she would give anything and everything to change it. But this was how the story ended, wasn’t it? How things had to go. 

“It’s not...it’s not goin’ to work out Grant. We love each other but that alone isn’t enough to make a marriage work. It’s just not workin’ out.”

She watched as his entire face went white, mouth opening and closing as if he were searching for the words.

“N-no.” He stuttered. “No, don’t do this to me Cait, don’t.”

“I’m sorry Grant, it’s just not goin’ to work out.”

“No, no, we can start over, we can be better. I-I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect, just please don’t leave me.”

Cait stared at him with a sadness in her eyes, pitying the man she saw in front of her. There was a raw desperation on his face right now, one she had never seen in anyone else before. She had seen desperation before, on the faces of the raiders in the Combat Zone, on her parents’ when she kicked in their door, but this was so much worse. This was a man who was on the verge of losing everything he had, and who was willing to do everything in his power to keep it. Behind that initial look of desperation was something more though, a layer of brokenness that broke her heart. She knew he would react poorly to this, but she couldn’t have imagined how hard it would be to keep her composure in the midst of his heartbreak. If she had thought things could ever get better, she probably would have conceded and agreed to try to work it out. But at this point, she knew it was well beyond repair and that whatever was wrong between the two couldn’t be fixed.

“You can keep pretending Grant, but I know you’re not happy.”

In an instant, his expression suddenly turned dark, his face now reading anger instead of desperation. She knew that face like the back of her hand and knew that _something_ she said had struck a chord with him.

“Don’t try and tell me how I feel Cait, don’t you fucking dare. It's never been as easy as you think, and unlike you, I understand that a marriage is a commitment, not just a short-term feeling. So yeah, I’m not exactly jumping for joy right now, but I fucking meant it when I said ‘till death do us part’.”

The two had learned after months and months of screaming matches that no one wins in a fight, but today, Cait just couldn’t help herself.

“Ya mean the marriage ya guilt-tripped me into? You’re so fuckin’ dense, its unbelieva-“

“Are you kidding me Cait? Are you fucking kidding me right now? After everything I’ve done for you, _this_ is how you treat me? With me, you went from a chem addicted, homeless cage fighter to a sober wife who has everything she could possibly want, I fucking fixed you, I made you wh-“

“Yeah well maybe I never wanted someone to fix me, maybe I wanted someone who loved the fucked up parts of me too!”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that? I’ve spent the past 2 years loving every single part of you, every single day!”

“Have ya been lovin’ me, or have ya been actin’ like ya do so ya could rope me into being yer replacement for Nora?”

Cait regretted saying it the moment it came out, as she knew she had just told a bald-faced lie. She knew Grant genuinely loved her and that he still deeply missed his late wife, but for some reason, she just couldn’t resist saying it, even if it was untrue.

“Y-you...you haven’t changed at all, have you?” He muttered, physically shaking with anger now. “You’re still the same heartless, fucked up bitch you were when I met you at the Combat Zone.”

Oh there it was, there it fucking was. He just couldn’t resist hitting her where it hurt, couldn’t he? He just _had_ to go scorched earth on her and push their argument to the point of no return. Well, she wasn’t going to just stand here and take it, so if he wanted to be like that, she was going to return the goddamn favor.

“Ya know, yer worse than me goddamn parents! I never thought it’d be possible to get worse than those two wastes of humanity but here yer are.”

“Sure, but at least you had the balls to kill those fuckers. Can’t say the same for me, can you?”

“Oh yer really testin’ me now. If ya want me to blow yer fuckin’ brains out, I will, ya piece of shit.”

Grant chuckled cynically and looked down at her with a sinister look in his eyes, a sight that made Cait sick to her stomach.

“Kill me. Go on, do it. Kill me right fucking here and right fucking now. What the hell do you have left besides me? What the hell are you going to do when I’m gone? Go back to an empty Combat Zone and drink yourself to death?”

Cait stared at him with those burning sea-green eyes, furious because she could tell that he really thought it was all true. He really thought she had nothing in life besides him, really thought that once he was dead, she would have nothing to live for. How fucking stupid was he? He thought he knew it all but he didn’t know how resilient she was, and how long she had survived alone. He didn’t know that she had been through absolute hell before and that if she could overcome physical abuse, psychological torment, and slavery, she could overcome a little dork whose ego was bigger than his dick. She could and she was going to do it right fucking now.

Her hand was halfway to the pistol she had holstered on her hip before he cried out, his expression rapidly shifting from its former cocky expression. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry alright? I don’t know why I said those things, I...I don’t mean any of them. Let’s just actually work things out, alright?”

Cait’s breath shuddered in her lungs as she looked at the pathetic expression on his face, her anger only bubbling up even more.

“Ya really think that this shite can still be fixed? Look at us! Look at the shite we’ve said to each other! We fuckin’ hate each other Grant, we can’t fuckin’ work this out anymore!”

“Maybe we could if you put some effort into it.” He muttered, scoffing bitterly under his breath. “You know what, no, fine! You don’t have to pretend to care when you’ve already got one foot out the damn door.”

“Yeah damn right I don’t, I-“

“You know what, why don’t you just leave? Why don’t you just get the hell out and never come back? If you’re so damn miserable here then go!”

“Thank fuckin’ god. I’ve been dyin’ to get the hell out of here.”

“Then why didn’t you? You’re a grown woman, you could have left whenever you wanted. You’ve been ‘dyin’ to leave’ but you still stayed. You’ve still been more than happy to leech off my booze and Psycho. You talk a lot of shit, but at the end of the day, you know you still need me. You always will.”

“You’re a real piece of shite, ya know that? I’ve never met such an arrogant arsehole in my life.”

“And I’ve never met such a selfish goddamn bitch. After all these years, you still treat me like I’m another notch in your bedpost. Which shouldn’t surprise me considering your past.“ 

Cait grit her teeth, fighting every single urge in her body to shoot him in the damn face right then and now. She had dealt with more assholes than she’d like to count in her life, her parents, her slavers, Stratton, and now Grant. Every time she had the opportunity, she sought revenge, sought to make those fuckers pay for what they had done to her. And in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to shut this piece of shit up, and leave him as a smoking pile of ash. But for some reason, she stopped, her mouth refusing to utter any more insults, her hand refusing to reach for the pistol she so wanted to grab. Instead, she simply walked away, making a direct beeline to her bedroom. She wanted satisfaction, wanted revenge so goddamn badly but she knew he wanted the same damn thing, and maybe, just maybe, not giving him that satisfaction would be the best possible revenge she could get right now.

Her real revenge would have to come later. 


	58. The Silence Says Enough

Cait never liked the silence.

She got too much of it as a child, never enough as a young adult, and now that she was grown, she had far too much and not enough all at once. 

She had spent the past month in complete silence, nothing to entertain her but her own fucked-up thoughts, just like how it was with the slavers. She spent last night in never-ending noise, a cacophony of yelling and fighting, just like how it was in the Combat Zone. And now, as she packed her stuff up, she had returned to the silence, yet still bombarded with the constant noise going on in her brain.

It was for the better. 

Because as much as she hated the quiet, this was how she needed to go out. Quietly, in the dead silence of the night. There would be no noise, no arguing, begging, or attempted compromising. She had had far too much of that recently. There would be no grand exit, no big send-off. She was leaving him, and that was that. Once she had all her stuff, that was it, she was gone. No last look, no final goodbye, none of it. Grant didn’t deserve any closure, didn’t deserve anything but the pained confusion that would come with this. 

Cait didn’t know where she was off to next and that suited her just fine. The last time she left, she was scared as hell, could barely handle the thought of not belonging anywhere anymore, but tonight, as she walked down the Commonwealth roads, she remained steady and absolutely fucking fearless. 

No going back.

No going back to Grant, no going back to the Combat Zone, this time she was a new creation, off to God knows where to do God knows what. 

The way it was always meant to be. 


	59. Leave The Demons to Their Demons (The Bad-Bad Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Refusal Ending
> 
> Occurs 5 years after the events of Chapter 58

Grant shoved his hands in his pocket, nervously muttering to himself as he tried to steady his breathing. Ever since childhood, he had always been a gregarious fellow, always knowing what to say and when to say it. Yet as he prepared to see his ex-wife for the first time in half a decade, the normally talkative man was reduced to mere mumblings. What the hell could you even say in a situation like this? What do you say to someone after six years of radio silence? What do you say to someone who walked out on you and left you to raise your newborn son alone?

Well...he could think of a couple things he could say, a lot of them starting with F and none of them very pleasant. 

But as much as he’d love to storm in that goddamn bar, and tell Cait to go fuck herself, he was in no mood to get sucker punched, especially not when he had something so serious to ask her. As far as he was concerned, he was perfectly fine with never seeing, talking or even thinking of Cait ever again, but whether he liked it or not, they had had a kid together and as that kid grew up, he had become more and more interested in the whereabouts of his mom. So Grant did what every good parent does, and bribed his Railroad agent buddy to track down his ex-wife’s location so he could pay her a visit. 

Completely normal behavior. 

So here he was, in the dumps of Boston, barely keeping it together as he looked over the exterior of the Irish bar. He had a feeling he was going to need a drink or two tonight. Maybe a hundred. 

Grant waded through the crowd of young, drunk idiots, fully aware of the fact that he was a couple decades too old to be hanging out with these folks. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was one of them only a few years ago. But he wasn’t here to strike up a conversation or reminisce on his younger days, no, he was a man on a very, very painful mission and no matter what, he was going to get this shit done. At least, that’s what he thought. 

Admittedly he didn’t have much of a gameplan besides: “walk up and hope Cait agreed to all his demands” but as he unfortunately knew all too well, Cait was the most unpredictable fucker in the whole Commonwealth. Making any sort of plan would be an absolute waste of his time when the person in question had a temper of super mutant. Right now, all he could do was walk up to her, maintain his cool and do his best not to get shot. 

Yet upon the sight of his ex-wife leaned up against that bar, the thought of doing all that became all the more daunting. Judging by the way she downed those shots, she hadn’t changed a bit, yet somehow seemed twice as pretty. 

After ten years of blocking out any and all memory of her, he was hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia, his mind replaying all those nights spent together, all those promises of forever. Their first kiss in the Goodneighbor rain, the sleepless nights on the roof, all those moments he relished then, cursed him now. Soon enough, he found himself hyperventilating, desperately sucking in air as he fought to regain control. He needed to get out of here, he had to. He could always come back to talk to her, but trying to talk to her in this condition would blow any chance of success. Just as he was about to head out, he caught the gaze of the bartender, the one who just so happened to be his ex-wife.

Great. 

Knowing there was no going back now, he strutted towards the bar, wearing a mask of cool confidence as he tried his best not to cry or projectile vomit. 

“Still remember what I drink?” He said with a cocky smile, hands tucked in his pockets. 

“The fuck are ya doin’ here, McKay? How the fuck you’d even find me?”

“I’ve got connections. And I’m here for a scotch on the rocks with a twist.”

“Bullshit.” She spat, staring him down with an icy glare. “Why the fuck are ya really here?”

“Scotch on the rocks first, then we talk.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, Cait reached over the bar and grabbed Grant by his collar, eyes full of red-hot fury.

“Quit bein’ cute and tell me what the fuck yer here for.”

Grant fought the urge to laugh at this moment, both amused and deeply concerned about Cait’s faux tough-guy persona. This was all an act, he knew that damn well, yet he had to admit, she played the part well. If he hadn’t loved her for so long, he might even be frightened by her wild aggression. Yet he had, and if his memories served him correct, this was the same girl who loved to cuddle up to him at night and press soft kisses to his neck. But even if the tough guy act was fake, it was clear she had changed in a major way, that every ounce of progress Cait had made with him had been completely erased. The woman in front of him right now was no better than the angry, drug-addicted asshole he met so long ago at the Combat Zone. In different circumstances, he’d pity her, but now all he could do was return her aggression with some of his own. 

“Never one to beat around the bush huh? Fine then. Five years ago, you and I happened to have a son, and that son is now curious as to what his mom is up to these days. I for one could care less but-“

Cait let go of his shirt and sent him straight to the floor when she heard that, gaze suddenly shifting to anything but him.

“Get the fuck outta my bar, McKay.”

“Not till I get that drink.”

“Don’t make me fuckin’ throw ya out, yo-“

“I’d like to see you try.” Grant growled, knowing full well that he was playing with fire right now. “I’m not leaving till we talk about this, and I don’t give a shit what you say you’re gonna do.” 

Something about his aggression set something off in her, because before he knew it, her expression had gone from furious to irritated, and for the first time tonight, it looked like they could have a sensible discussion about all this. It was a dangerous gamble to take but Cait respected those who exerted their power, and even if he didn’t feel very powerful, he played the part well. 

“You wanna talk, you’ll have to wait. Shift’s over at 1 am.”

“It's 10:37 and there’s no way in hell I’m waiting any longer. These drunk bastards can sober up for 10 minutes.”

“Hold on, yer seriously comin’ into _my_ bar and tellin’ _me_ what to do?”

“Yeah, I am. I figured humoring me for a couple minutes is the least you could do after abandoning me and your son for 5 years.”

“Don’t fuckin’ guilt trip’ me over that shite, don’t ya fuckin’ dare.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t do the goddamn deed.” Grant countered, refusing to concede or play nice. “Look, I’m not asking you for much, he just wants to see you every once in a while.”

“And I don’t wanna see him.”

“Would it kill you to just visit him once a month?”

“I told ya this a long time ago, I don’t want anythin’ to do with you or him.”

Grant bit his bottom lip, trying so damn hard not to flip out on her for the sake of his son. 

“Well you also told me that you loved me and that you’d never leave, but clearly, things change! Look, I’m not asking you to come back into his life, or fucking remarry me, just see him a couple times a year, that’s it.”

It was at this point that Cait stopped wiping down the bar and instead looked back up at him, face unmoving and cold.

“I’m sick of repeatin’ myself, so I’m gonna be straight with ya. I want nothing to nothing to do with you or that boy, and I’d appreciate it if ya got the fuck out of here and never came back.”

“That boy?” He spat. “That boy is your goddamn son! And you’re his fucking mother so act like it! Even your own parents bothered to show up!”

Grant didn’t want to pull that card, but Cait’s unwillingness to compromise had driven him to the edge, and hearing him call their son “that boy”, well it pushed him over. She needed a fucking wake up call and she needed it fast, even if it might hurt her feelings. All niceties had gone out their window with their marriage. Yet as he knew all too well by now, Cait abhorred any mention of her parents, much less a direct comparison to them and before he knew it, he had a pistol pointed at him, aimed right between his eyes.

“Don’t ever compare me to my parents Grant, don’t ya fuckin’ dare!” 

Normally Grant would scoff at the prospect of death, after all, near-death experiences used to be his average Tuesday. But now it was different, now he had something he couldn’t leave behind. For the sake of his son, he had to make it out here alive. Yet as he had seen in battle so many times, Cait had no remorse for poor, wounded creatures who begged for mercy. No, Cait was fucking ruthless and so he needed to be too.

“So you’re gonna shoot me, is that it? It’s not enough to abandon our son, you need to kill his dad too?”

He wanted so badly to follow that up with a “you’re real good at killing parents though aren’t ya?” but for the sake of his survival, and his son, he held back. Just barely.

She didn’t respond, and instead just looked at him with that red hot glare, hands steady as she held the gun at his forehead.

“Put the damn gun down Cait, let’s not do this.”

“You fuckin’ started all this bullshit! Yer the one who tracked me down, stormed into my fuckin’ bar, and started demandin’ shite! Yer lucky I didn’t shoot ya the moment ya walked in.”

“My ex-wife is pointing a gun at my head right now, how lucky can I possibly be?”

Her face remained stoic, clearly not appreciative of his incredible sense of humor. Just another reason why they split up.

“Okay fine, you don’t wanna see him. I’ve got a blank holotape here, just record a message for him, will you? You don’t have to get all sentimental or anything, just say a couple things.”

Grant held the holotape out, patiently waiting for her to take it. Instead, it was blown into pieces, little pieces of orange plastic now littering the hardwood floors. 

Great. Just great.

“Are you serious? You could have just said no.”

“Ya haven’t been listenin’ to anythin’ I’ve been sayin’ all night. No reason ya’d start now.”

As he looked down at the little pieces of burnt plastic in his hand, he realized that there would be no compromise. Cait was hellbent on never interacting with their son and she wasn’t going to budge, no matter what he said. It seemed as if both him and Cooper were seemed as good as dead to her at this point, and any hope of cordial interaction had died the day their relationship did.

Well, two could play at that game. 

The last moments of their marriage had taught him that no one truly wins in a fight, yet if he was going to come out of this empty-handed, he might as well walk away with his pride intact. 

“You’re fucking heartless.” He sneered. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself knowing what you’ve done. 

“Oh dontcha worry about me, I live just fine knowing I don’t have to deal with some 5 year old brat every day.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re just real fulfilled pouring liquor all day and getting hit on by drunk, horny idiots.”

“At least the drunk, horny idiots here don’t blabber on and on about marriage and kids. They’re a real upgrade from you.”

“Don’t lie to me Cait, I see the track marks and cuts on your arm. You’re no better than you were at the Combat Zone. What would Tommy think?”

“Tommy’s a bastard,” she sneered, “I don’t give a shite what he thinks.”

“You don’t mean that either. I know deep down you’re pissed you fucked up every good relationship you ever had, so don’t try and pull that fake tough guy shit on me. It won’t work.”

“Yer a real arrogant piece of shite, ya know that? You and Tommy mean nothing to me.”

“Another lie huh? You wouldn’t have spent so long avoiding me if that was the case. You wouldn’t be so damn aggressive towards me if that was the case. You’re lying through your damn teeth because you’re too much of a coward to admit that you still care!”

Cait’s stoic expression dropped the moment she heard that, her face showing the slightest hint of sadness. It had been over 5 years since he had seen her, but he still knew her like the back of his hand, and he knew damn well that she was on the verge of tears. Whatever he had said had cut right through her aggression, and Grant was all the happier that her bullshit had been taken down. A good man would have stopped there, walked away with his honor still intact. But Grant was not a good man, and right now, his desire to enact revenge on his ex-wife down to nothing outweighed any moral compass he may have thought he had. So he continued with his ruthless assault, digging up any old wounds and pain he could remember just to hurt her. 

“And you’ll die regretting the day you left me. Look at you now! Look at your fucking meaningless life! Your whole life revolves around serving drunk fools who see you as nothing more than a piece of eye candy who can be fucked for a price. You had your chance, had someone who loved you and you threw it all away. And when you die... when someone finally manages to put you in the ground, not a single person is gonna even blink. And you know what? That’s your own fucking fault! This time you can’t blame your parents, the slavers, nobody brought this on yourself but you and your goddamn cowardice!” 

The tirade came from the most primal part of his being, the part he had thought he had buried years ago. He wasn’t like this normally, he was ten times kinder and more merciful than the man saying those words was. That side of him, the petty, bitter one, it had emerged for a few moments but it wasn’t who he was. And even if he hated her guts and she hated his, it still hurt to see her so hurt by his words. He had spent his entire marriage to her trying to love her the best he could, to never hurt her, intentionally, or unintentionally. Yet here he stood, enraged as hell, doing his best to make her feel small.

He fucking hated it.

He fucking hated what he had become since he came in here, how low he had stooped. He wasn’t like this usually. He was usually the bigger man, the type of guy to have mercy on those who didn’t deserve it. But look at him now. Hateful, angry, bitter, cutting down someone he vowed to love forever. Cait had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in meeting Cooper in any way shape or form, so why was he still here? Why was he even bothering? He had a son waiting for him at home, a son who needed his dad to make him lunch and drop him off at school tomorrow. No matter how Cait felt towards him and whether she would ever cooperate, he had more to live for than this petty bullshit. 

It was time he left. 

Left this bar, left the past, left the demon to their demons. For good.

“I...I didn’t mean that...I didn’t.” He murmured, almost too ashamed to look her in the eyes. “Look, I’m gonna go, alright? I won’t ever come back again. I’m sorry. For everything.”

And with that, and one last pitiful look, he left, never to return to her or the Shamrock Taphouse ever again.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go everyone, the first ending chapter! It also happens to be the shortest ending, so if you were disappointed with its length, don't worry, the rest are much longer. Also, there's nothing I like more than talking about my own work, so I'm gonna give some director's commentary (or whatever the writing equivalent is) for each chapter! If reading my various ramblings about this chapter sounds like literal hell, don't worry, feel free to skip, no hard feelings and I'll see you guys next Monday!
> 
> For those of you who do care, read on cause boy do I have some thoughts. 
> 
> I know this is the bad ending from the bad branch, so it's supposed to be terrible, but damn did this chapter suck to write. Writing 58 chapters of a Grant and Cait romance only to have it end up in such bitter, petty attacks like this...sucked. Whether you think their marriage could work out or not, you can't deny that both of them really did care for each other and to see them bury those affections for stupid insults hurts man. And not only that, but I really hate thinking about the fact that this interaction (at least in this timeline) is the last time the two ever see each other. Meaning the last memory Cait has of Grant is him telling her she's a coward and that no one's gonna care when she dies. Think about it, her former best friend and husband, the only person in the world she could completely trust, degrading her in the same way everyone else in her life did. Damn. This is one of the few times in the series where I think Grant acts out of pure spite and malice and boy does he not pull any punches! 
> 
> On a lighter note, the next ending will be posted next Monday and I promise this one is way less depressing. See you guys next week!


	60. Here's to Us, Cheers (The Bad-Realistic Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hookup Ending
> 
> 6 years after the events of Chapter 58

“Oy, did ya not hear me the first time? You’re drunk outta your fuckin’ mind, you’re done!” 

“Just one more round!” The patron pleaded, barely able to stay upright.

“I’m not picking’ yer fuckin’ body off the floor when ya pass out, Paul! Get the fuck out of here!”

“Darling, yo-“

“Darling to me, missus to you, motherfucker.” A mysterious voice growled, his figure barely visible in the heavy smoke swirling around the bar.

“Grant? What the hell are y-“

Before the drunk fool could make his situation worse, a fist cut through the fog, his knuckles making perfect contact with Paul’s face. In an instant, the drunkard was sent flying, his body hitting the wooden floors with a sickening thud.

“Ow, fuck! What the fuck was that for?”

“You were being a dick.” Grant sneered, his voice dropped into a deep, warning baritone.

“I thought you liked people with bitchy streaks.”

“So long as they’re women.”

“Heh, well you got the best of them then.”

Grant let out a cynical chuckle and for a moment, it seemed as if the drunk fool would live to drink another day. But Cait knew better and judging by the fire in his eyes, he wasn’t about to take a comment like that lightly. And considering the fact that Grant’s boot met Paul’s skull about 3 seconds later, she’d say her intuitions were pretty damn good. Cait looked down at the bloodied, knocked out idiot on the floor then back up at the man who did the deed, her eyes filled with knowing admiration.

“Well, aren’t ya a violent one, McKay?”

“Eh, diplomacy is overrated anyway.” Grant smiled, quickly taking a seat on a nearby barstool. “Shift over soon?”

“Still got an hour to go. Might wanna make yourself comfortable.” 

“Ah alright, in that case, I’ll take a-“

“Scotch on the rocks with a twist.” She said without hesitation, already reaching for the nearest bottle.

“Hey you’re pretty good at this whole bartending thing. Might even have to tip you this time.”

“Yeah yeah,” Cait grumbled jokingly, sliding his drink over, “I know you’re loaded, so don’t hold back on me.” 

“Since when have I ever held back on you, Ms. Cait O’Reilly?” 

She could only snort at that, her brain refusing to start remembering all the times he _did_ hold back on her. Tonight was about one thing and one thing only and bringing up the past would ruin the whole damn thing. Yet for some unknown reason, The Shamrock Taphouse was unusually empty tonight, which unfortunately for her, meant she had to deal with another hour of staring awkwardly at Grant, waiting for 1 am to hit so she could close up. At moments like these it felt hard to believe that only a few years ago, they could talk for hours about anything and everything. All those nights on the roof, all those late-night convos, reduced to nothing now. They tried to recreate those moments early on but had found out soon enough that their breakup had put a serious rift between them, one that couldn’t be repaired despite their best efforts. Now they didn’t even try, which wasn’t a problem when Grant actually showed up at the right time.

It was simple really, Grant showed up at 1, they made sweet, sweet love and then he left and returned in a month. Simple, easy, uncomplicated. But Grant was Grant and as always, he had an inordinate talent of unnecessarily complicating things. So there they sat, an hour too early, Grant slowly sipping his scotch on the rocks with a twist, and Cait _watching_ him sip his scotch on the rocks with a twist. She tried damn hard to keep herself busy: counting caps that had already been counted, wiping down squeaky clean surfaces, just to keep herself from doing the damn thing she swore to stop doing. Yet soon the silence grew insufferable, and before she knew it, her lips were uttering that question that she always hated hearing the answer to.

“How’s Cooper?”

Grant looked up from his slowly melting drink, his expression revealing all she needed to know.

“Uh good, he’s good.” 

Great.

Just when she thought that was that and they could move on, he continued, his face even more pained this time.

“Actually, it’s his 5th birthday next month...I figure you won’t be making an appearance?”

Cait sighed and shook her head, severely regretting even bringing him up in the first place. 

“I’ve missed his last 4, wouldn’t make sense to just start showing up, now would it?”

“I guess.” He murmured, a slight bitter edge to his voice. “He’s been asking about his mom more often recently, you know? I’m considering telling him that you’re dead or something. Be a lot easier on me.”

“So what’s stoppin’ ya? Still holdin’ out hopes for a happy reunion?” She spat, countering his bitterness with some of her own. 

“No, I just...you were my wife at one point and whether I like it or not, you’re the mother of my child. After all that, it feels wrong to write you off as dead.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, she could swear there was a hint of sentimentality to his voice, the same kind of stupid hope that destroyed their marriage years earlier. Guess some people never changed. 

“Well, you’re his dad, you can tell him whatever you please.”

“And you’re his mom. I wish you would act like it.”

Ugh, not this shit again. She could have sworn they had had this conversation about a billion times, back when their son was just born and Grant was still hellbent on convincing her to come back. Through years of stubborn refusal, she _thought_ he would have dropped the damn thing, but it was Grant after all and Grant was fucking weird.

“We’ve been over this before, it’s not happenin’.”

“Still don’t understand why. Would it kill you to come see him every once in a while?”

For a split second, her arm twitched, wanting so desperately to reach over the bar and slap him fucking silly. After all, it was what she did best, and the satisfaction of hearing that nice sharp slap would sure feel good. Yet after all these years, Cait knew damn well that hitting him would do nothing but guarantee that he’d never come back again, and having to clean up _two_ bloodied, knocked out fools off the floor was just too damn much for one night. 

Damn her newfound sensibility.

“Look, yer pissin’ me off Grant.” She growled, her voice low in warning. “Ya need to get out of me hair for a couple minutes before I throw ya out.” 

“Fine then.” He sighed, taking one last swig of his drink. “I’ll be outside having a smoke.”

“I thought ya quit smokin’ years ago.”

“Dealing with my ex-wife stresses me out. I need something to take the edge off.” He smirked, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. 

What an asshole, Cait thought, struggling to fight back a smile. After all these years, and after everything that had broken between the two, he still managed to drive her crazy like no other.

Some things never changed. 

His hold on her, well it was the only reason they were here, wasn’t it? After all, it was only a few years ago that she swore she never wanted to see him again, hoped he was fucking miserable and rotting in some ditch somewhere. And you know what, she felt the same damn way when he walked in her bar on that faithful night. Looking back on it, it was funny how much she hated him back then and how close she was to throwing him out right then and there. Yet as she reminisced on the past few years of hookups, she couldn’t help but be glad that he was one charming son of a bitch, and drove her crazy like no other man ever could. And as much as she hated to admit it, things were a lot more interesting with him around. So maybe that’s why last call was 35 minutes earlier that night at the Shamrock Taphouse, much to the dismay of the few patrons still lingering around. 

After watching a few drunkards file out, and physically throwing out one, Cait made her way outside, her corset doing little to protect her from the blistering storm outside.

“Cait.” Grant mumbled, cigarette tucked between his two fingers. “What’re you doin’ here? Last call isn’t for another...32 minutes.”

“I got bored watching those drunk bastards try to hold their liquor. Decided I’d much rather do this.”

Without a word of warning, she grabbed him by his collar, knocking the cigarette from his hand as her kiss stopped his train of thought right in its tracks. Their hands and lips began to move in perfect sync, still familiar with each other’s tendencies after all these years. It was funny really, even though they had been doing this for so long - once a month for 2 years now - Cait could never get enough of Grant’s gentle touch and the way his body relaxed when she put her hands on his hips. And just like all good makeout sessions, he pulled away just when it was starting to get really good, eyes full of heartfelt passion.

“You really have no patience, do you?”

“Are ya complainin’?”

“Not at all. Just saying you could have at least grabbed a jacket or something. You must be freezing, here, take my coat.”

Before she could utter a word of protest, he draped his jacket around her shoulders, Cait breathing in his lingering scent of scotch and smoke. 

“That scent....the moment I hate most every time ya leave is when it fades.”

She looked up at him and softly bit her lip, trying to soak in every second of this moment before it was gone. But she must have ignited something in him with that, because before she knew it, he was pulling her in again, and pressing the roughest possible kisses to her neck. Her breath shuddered as he began to move downward, barely able to contain how much she wanted him. If it was up to her, they’d stay right here all night, blizzard and dropping temperature be damned. It was hard to think of a better way to spend the night than this, wrapped up in his warmth, slowly kissing each other as the snow came down. But judging by that look in his eyes, he had way more in mind than just slow kissing, and just as she was about to go at him, he pulled away again, head jerked towards the door. 

“C’mon, let’s get inside.” He murmured, his hand lingering on her arm for just a few seconds too long. “As hot as you look right now, I’m not fucking you in the snow.”

“Sounds like coward talk to me.” She smirked, planting one last kiss on his lips before pulling him inside.

“Coward? Does a coward do this?”

With extraordinary ease, Grant lifted her up and set her down on the bar, hands immediately working to take off her corset. The last man to try and grab her like that got their balls kicked in, but for some reason, she was willing to have mercy on this roguishly handsome vault dweller. 

Lucky him.

Neither of them could contain themselves in this moment, holding and loving each other like it was their last days on earth. She remembered this feeling, hell, she had experienced it about 1000 times before, but never like this, and never in these circumstances. Because as good as it was back then, there was something different about it now. Back then they were married, committed to each other, but now, there was no obligation, no guarantee they’d ever see each other again. There was something fun knowing that both of them were here out of pure desire, not because of a stupid, arbitrary wedding.

Plus, it was so damn sexy knowing that Grant had snuck out in the middle of the night to be with her. 

But Grant McKay was no average one night stand either, nor would he ever be. Because as much as she loved this whole no string attached deal, there was something special knowing that the man currently taking off her pants loved her deeply and that he wasn’t the type to manipulate her for a quick shag. And as much as she hated to admit it, there _was_ something nice about falling asleep on his chest when it was all said and done and waking up to him holding her tenderly in his arms. Because if there was one thing she missed about being married, it was waking up to soft kisses on her cheek and his stupid face whispering “good morning baby”. 

But maybe hookup Grant was even better than married Grant, because today she woke up to a freshly poured scotch, a lit cigar, and a “morning gorgeous.” Every grown woman’s dream.

“Ya sure know how to treat a lady, don’t ya?”

“I can’t take all the credit, you’re pretty easy to please.” He chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigar. 

“A cold drink, a good smoke, and a hot shirtless man. What else could a woman need?”

“Well I'm no woman but I could sure use another round of uh, well, you know what.”

Cait looked deeply into her partner's eyes, amazed his steel-grey eyes still retained that same look she fell in love with so many years back. Through years of lived experience, she knew the Commonwealth and its ways, knew it had an innate way of breaking down a person and all of their aspirations. Yet here they laid, his gaze still youthful and full of hope. In fact, she could swear that right here, in this moment, he had the exact same gaze he had in Goodneighbor, right before she kissed him. That moment, that stupid stupid moment had been on her mind more than she liked to admit, but she knew that bringing it up or dwelling on it for too long would bring nothing but trouble, so she stopped her stupid brain in its tracks, and shot Grant a sarcastic comment. 

“Already?” Cait said with a grin. “Didn’t ya just wake up?”

“No, _you_ just woke up. I’ve been up for almost an hour now.”

“Yeah? Well ya have a left hand, right? Ya could have put it to use while ya waited.”

“You kidding me?" He chuckled. "After what we did last night, you think that would satisfy me? Plus, I had better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I spent the first half-hour watching you dream about my beautiful biceps and the last quarter preparing those scotch and cigars you seem to be enjoying so much.”

“Watching me sleep eh? Yer a real perv.”

“Yeah well I’m your favorite perv, aren’t I?” He taunted, pulling her closer to his body.

“Considering the type of pervs I have ta deal with every night, I’d say it's a low bar.”

“Heh, you got me there.”

“Ya know, favorite pervert or not I’ll never understand what’s up with you and watching me sleep.”

She watched as his eyes suddenly averted, his face showing all the tell-tale signs of shame. Whether she wanted to or not she knew every damn thing about the man currently holding her, and she knew that look like the back of her hand. If they were still married, she’d assume he had done something horrible like cheat on her or toss a perfectly good bottle of whiskey out or something, but now it was really anyone’s guess. After a few quiet moments, he finally spoke up, his face pained as he choked out the words. 

“Well I... I get so little time with you as is...I-I don’t know. Just like soaking in every moment that I can get with you, that’s all.”

“Grant, I know you’re a big ole softie, ya don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

“No I know, I just... figured that there’s no point sharing my feelings if you don’t feel the same.”

“And what makes ya think I don’t feel the same way?”

“I...uh...well...I uh...”

“Ya know McKay, I might just enjoy these days more than you do.”

“No chance in hell Cait,” he rebutted immediately, “no chance in hell. I can’t get enough of you, you know that.”

Cait's mind stopped upon hearing those words, trying to figure out whether to blush or cringe. If he had said those words back when they first started dating, she would have blushed, warmed by the fact that someone honestly and truly wanted and loved her with all their heart. If it was towards the end of their marriage she would have cringed, fully believing that it was just another meaningless phrase he was using to manipulate her. But now? Now she couldn't make sense of it, and honestly didn't know if she wanted to even try. Maybe for once in their relationship, this didn't have to be a big deal, maybe, just maybe, she could just tell this shirtless vault dweller how attractive he was tonight. 

“You’re pretty damn irresistible yourself.”

And so the silence returned - passionate, lustful silence - only for it to be broken by Grant a few moments later. 

“If you really feel that way, what do you say we make this a biweekly thing?”

“Only if ya think ya can handle a lass like me twice a month.”

“I am more than confident in my abilities.” He smiled, planting a soft kiss on top of her forehead. 

“Well in that case, I suppose I wouldn’t mind ya coming over more.”

“And I suppose I wouldn’t mind waking you up with a cold scotch and a lit cigar a little more often.”

“Hm, sounds perfect to me, love.”

So there they laid, not saying a word, the silence finally good. For the first time in a while, there was no awkward silence that needed to be filled up, no tension holding them back, just two idiots relishing each other’s presence. With the way they were holding each other right now, it was hard to imagine that just 2 years ago they could barely think about the other without getting filled with red-hot rage. After all they had been through, after all that had transpired, Cait could never in her wildest dreams imagined that they would have ended up here.

“Hey, cheers to us.” Grant smiled, holding his drink up in the air. 

Cait clinked her glass against his and leaned back, relishing the pure happiness that was running through her veins right now. If you had told her six years ago, when she was walking out on everything she knew, that she’d end up here, running her own damn bar and hooking up with her ex-husband on a regular basis, she’d have asked you what the fuck you were smoking. The Cait back then would have told you she was too irresponsible to own anything other than a shotgun, would have told you she never wanted to see that bearded piece of shit ever again. But life has a funny way of working out, doesn’t it? Doors you never thought would close get slammed in your face, windows you never even knew existed get opened, and you end up in places you never thought you’d be. And as Grant quickly pressed his lips against hers, promising to return in two weeks, Cait knew right then and there, that this? 

This was exactly where she belonged. 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well, after last week's dumpster fire of an ending, this is certainly an improvement. Yet for some reason, I still hesitate to classify this as a truly "good" ending. Yes, neither of them are hurling petty insults at each other, and they're still making sweet, sweet love but to have our beloved couple end up as a hookup isn't super satisfying, is it? I think this sort of relationship - a casual hookup with slight feelings of affection underneath - is exactly what Cait would want after their marriage fell apart. I guess that would make it one of the more realistic endings, but we all know that Grant isn't the type of dude to enjoy a casual fling, especially not with someone he loves as much as Cait. I wanted to keep this ending pretty upbeat so I didn't allude to any negative feelings from Grant but I'd like to think that deep down he wants so much more with her yet settles for this arrangement just so he can stay in her life. Brutal. Then again, I tend to be pretty sympathetic to Grant, so maybe some of you are enjoying the fact that Cait got her happy ending and Grant is suffering a little bit. Regardless, the third ending is coming this Friday and I'm pumped to share the first "good" ending with you all. See you this Friday!


	61. More Than a Third Beer (The Bad-Good Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reunion Ending
> 
> Occurs a month after the events of Chapter 60

“Ma’am, I’m still not quite sure what you’re looking for.”

Cait sighed and clenched her fist, desperately trying to resist the urge to beat this fucking robot into scrap.

“I just need a gift for a five year old. Just gimme something a kid would like!”

“Hm. This kid you speak of, what are their interests? What sort of things do they like?”

“He...well...it doesn’t fuckin’ matter!” She spat, mask of anger covering up the shame she felt at the fact that she couldn’t name a single thing her own damn son liked. 

“Erm, well how about a baseball glove then? That’s always a favorite among young boys!”

“Baseball...yeah, that’ll do. Gimme a glove and a ball, will ya?”

“Certainly miss! That’ll be 50 caps!”

Cait grumbled and forked the caps over, still wondering why the hell she was spending an entire day’s salary on a kid she had never even met before. Ah, the things she did for Grant. 

Baseball glove in hand and a scowl on her face, Cait began her trek to Grant’s house, cursing herself out for ever letting him move out to the middle of fucking nowhere. As she walked down the cracked pavement, she couldn’t help but reminisce about the last time she walked this path, well over 5 years ago. Fueled on nothing but anger and hatred, she had walked the whole journey in a couple hours flat, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck away from Grant. That was the last time she’d ever deal with him she swore, never again would she see his stupid face or his stupid house. And for a while, that was the case. After having Cooper and dropping him off on Grant’s doorstep, she fled the Commonwealth in hopes that a little scenery change would help. Her days in the Capital Wasteland ended up being short and miserable and soon enough she found herself right where she started: back in the Commonwealth, alone and penniless. Those were some of the darkest moments of her life, and considering what Cait had been through before, that was _really_ saying something. 

Just like she did so many times before, she thought about ending it all, thought about finally stopping the mind-numbing misery. Yet as she had learned the hard way throughout her miserable years of existence, it was only when she hit rock bottom that things started to get better. And soon enough, the same penniless, miserable Irish lass was running her own damn bar, couple with her choice of good liquor and a good amount of caps. Now all that was shocking enough, so could you imagine how she felt when her ex-husband, the same bloke who she left two years ago, walked in with a shit-eating smirk? It started with a few heated words and a black eye, evolved into a simple one night stand, and now here she was, standing on his doorstep, about to meet the son she never knew. Funny how life changed. 

Cait hesitated for a moment before knocking on her door, contemplating whether she wanted to back out while she could. There was no going back from this, and once Grant opened that door, that was it, she was gonna be a part of Cooper’s life. Maybe the idea of that would have scared her a few years ago, but the Cait that knocked on that door was not the same woman who had spent so long running away from her problems. This problem was worth dealing with. And funny enough, the Grant that opened the door was not the same Grant she was used to seeing every two weeks. The Grant McKay she had grown accustomed to seeing over the years was a total badass: he took no shit from no one and everything about his presence commanded respect. Today’s Grant McKay donned polo and khakis and looked the textbook definition of a suburban dad. Huh.

Cait watched his face drop the second he laid eyes on her, his mouth hung open in stunned silence for a solid 5 seconds. 

“Cait...” He murmured, eyes wide with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. 

Without a word of warning, Grant threw his arms around her, swallowing her up in his warm embrace. In that moment, she let herself fully relax into his touch, feeling every one of her worries and fears wash away at his touch. 

“I can’t believe you came.” He murmured, head buried deep into the crook of her neck. 

“Hey, didn’t I say that exact thing to ya last week?”

“Oh shut up.” He laughed, finally pulling away. “I just...you were so hell-bent on not showing up last week, what changed your mind?”

Cait's entire body froze up, only now realizing she really didn't have a sound answer to that. So there they stood, Grant awkwardly lingering in the doorway as she tried to fill the stagnant air with "ums" and "uhs". She must have hesitated a little too long because soon enough, Grant was ushering her away from the front door, hand wrapped firmly in hers as he pulled her towards the backyard. As Cait took a cursory glance around the place, she couldn’t help but notice how different it all looked now, the formerly orderly, tidy backyard now covered in various toys and sports equipment. It was hard to believe that _this_ was the same damn place she started questioning their marriage in so long ago.

And as she looked into the eyes of her ex-husband, she could tell that, much like the backyard, he had changed in his own ways too. So maybe that’s why she was here in the first place, and even bothering trying to fix something she swore was forever broken. 

“So...my dear Cait can’t get enough of me huh?”

Cait quickly turned her head away to hide her reddening face, marveling at how one simple phrase from him could make her such a mess.

“Ha, you wish McKay.”

“Sure sure, but I assume you’re not just here for the free cake?”

“Ya really think I walked this damn far for a slice of cake?”

“Hey I make a mean tarberry cake, don’t underestimate it.” He laughed, eyes lighting up with that same glint she fell in love with. “But for real...what...well what changed your mind?”

Cait looked down at the dirt beneath her boots, remembering just how much she hated these stupid emotional, touchy-feely conversations. If it were up to her, there would be no explanation, she would just make her proposal outright, but as she had learned through so many years of loving Grant, these conversations were entirely necessary and entirely unavoidable, so no matter how much she hated it, she supposed she would just have to suck it up. 

“I dunno really. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to show up but...I dunno. Just being with ya like that last week...I...I just wanted to see ya again.”

Grant deflated the moment she said that, his entire body collapsing inward as he mulled about her response. 

“Cait, if you wanted to see me, you could have just told me next week. You didn’t have to show up here, get my hopes up and-“

“I didn’t just come here to hook up with ya alright?” She insisted, her voice a little more forceful than she intended.

She sighed and muttered a curse under her breath, so damn frustrated with the fact that her attempt to communicate what he meant to her was failing miserably. You would think that after having so many of these relationship talks she would at least be semi-competent at it now, but alas, here she was, still absolute shit at it. Maybe things like this weren’t meant to be put into words anyway. Because how could she describe what the hell had happened in the past month? How could she put into words a feeling she didn’t understand herself? The past 2 years, Cait had been perfectly content with their little arrangement. As far as she was concerned, seeing Grant for one night every month was more than enough, and anything more than that would be suffocating. They just weren’t meant to be, and now that Grant had accepted that, they were free to enjoy each other’s company without any need for further commitment. Yet that night they shared together a month ago...

Something drastically changed in her when he left, and soon enough, she was feeling feelings she hadn’t felt in over a half a decade. She spent that whole day aching for him, wanting more than anything to see him, talk to him, just _be_ with him. She tried like hell to convince herself that she was just horny or something, yet after shagging every bloke in the general area, she was still nothing but empty. It took her a whole week to realize that whatever she was feeling was the same damn thing she felt when she was in love, and that this aching was something far more real and scarier than horniness. One thing lead to another and soon enough, she started reminiscing, thinking back to the days he was hers and she was his. Birthdays, movie nights, late nights spent on the roof, she thought about it all. 

She didn’t want to.

Because as good as those nights were, they weren’t the full story. After all, they wouldn’t have gotten divorced if their whole relationship was all sunshine and rainbows, would they? She tried to think about all those nights spent in silence, the endless fights about nothing at all, the awful words they uttered when they were pissed, yet none of it was enough to soothe that endless longing in her heart. So she started thinking again, this time about whether a relationship between the two could actually work. Considering the way things ended, the answer initially seemed like nothing but a resounding no. How could you recover a relationship that blew up like that? She could still remember how much Grant’s insults stung that night, and how many months it took to convince herself that he didn’t mean anything he had said. Even so, the thought of being “the same heartless, fucked up bitch” haunted her each and every day despite her best efforts to not think about it. His words had hurt her deeply - probably more than anything her parents had ever said - and even when they were somewhat reconciled, she had trouble seeing him the same way. But Grant was Grant, and in true Grant fashion, he had spent the first dozen of their hookup sessions apologizing profusely for everything he had said and done that night. Considering the fact that no one else in her life had ever apologized for hurting her, it was a start, but what really got to her was how pained and distraught he seemed over it. She could never forget that look on his face the second time they had met up. He nearly broke down completely upon entering her bedroom, muttering on and on about not deserving any of this. To be honest, it kinda ruined the mood, but to know that someone was so torn up about hurting her...well it meant a lot. 

And so she started thinking more, this time about herself.

Because with the exception of that one awful night, Grant was Grant, and she knew exactly what she was getting when it came to him. The problem was Grant came with a 5 year old son, and well...Cait and kids mixed like oil and water. Cait had never really thought about being a parent, never wanted to be one, yet technically, as Grant so loved to remind her, she already was one. But it didn’t _really_ count, did it? She had seen a tiny glimpse of Cooper’s bloodied body the day she gave birth to him and heard bits and pieces from his father but other than that, she hadn’t a clue about him. And how the hell was she supposed to size up a situation she couldn’t possibly imagine? But yet, she still tried, combining Grant’s anecdotes with some experiences from her own childhood, all in hopes to get an idea of what parenthood was like. Her conclusion? 

It fucking sucked. 

No matter how hard she tried to spin it, being a parent sounded like a pain in the ass at best and eternal torment at the worst. But just as she was about to call it a day and admit she could never be a parent, her eyes had shifted over to the dresser across the room, her brain urging her to open it for some odd reason. She hadn’t opened that dresser drawer since she had moved in and upon seeing its content, she remembered why. In it, laid a solitary teddy bear, the one Grant had gifted her on her 27th birthday. It was the only memento of their relationship she didn’t destroy, and as she held it in her hands, she was sure glad she had the self-control to resist her rage in that moment. It was such a small thing - a stupid stolen stuffed animal - yet just by looking at it, Cait was hit with a wave of nostalgia to their early days. She thought back to how damn reluctant she was back then, how terrified she was of opening up her heart to someone else. And then she remembered how great that birthday that was, how loved and cared for she felt. For the first time in her life, someone had made her feel completely comfortable in their presence, and with him, all her reluctance towards dating seemed to fade away. If she was able to open up to someone and get married after swearing to never trust another man then well...maybe she could be a mom too. It wasn’t going to be easy, and she knew she would fuck up constantly, but for the first time in a long time, reigniting their relationship seemed to make sense.   
  
Yet by the way Grant was looking at her, she couldn’t tell if he felt the same.

That was fucking terrifying. 

For their entire relationship, Cait never had to worry if her feelings were reciprocated. Grant was head over heels for her and he made sure she knew that every single day. But now that they were separated, well...it wasn’t so clear now, was it? She could swear that when they hooked up, he had that same sort of loving look in his eyes, but basing a whole relationship off a look would be really fucking stupid, wouldn’t it? So here she was, trying to figure out if he wanted to make it work, or if abandoning him and his son for so long had made him wary of ever trying again. 

Here went nothing. 

“I...I want to try again. See if we can make this thing work.”

She planned to stop there, hopefully be greeted by an enthusiastic “yes” and make out right then and there, but that wasn’t the case. Grant’s face went ghastly white when he heard what she had said, his mouth opening and closing as he stammered for something to stay. 

“Cait, I...I still love you. And...and I never thought I would ever admit it, but...I’ve always wanted to get back together. Always hoped there was still a chance. And if it was just the two of us, I think I would.”

“But?” She croaked, heart dropping as she prepared herself for the worst. 

“But we have a son now and whether you like it or not, he’s everything to me. I won’t hurt him by introducing him to his mom and having her leave all of a sudden. If we get back together, I need to know that you’re serious and that you’re here for the long-haul.”

Cait sighed and bit her lip, understanding the seriousness of this whole situation. Even if she didn’t like it, he was right. There was no trying this out, once she came back into their lives, she was there for good. If she said yes, she locked herself into another decade of Grant at minimum, but if she said no, she practically gave up any chance of them ever being anything more than friends with benefits. And even for a woman who had struggled with commitment her whole life, the idea of never being Grant’s again was scarier than any sort of commitment. 

“I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t serious.”

“I know but...we ended on a pretty bad note. There were a lot of valid reasons we broke up and if we want to get back together, we need to figure them out now.”

She couldn’t help but marvel at this whole conversation, and how much Grant had matured since they had split. The old Grant would have leaped into an opportunity like this, said yes to a relationship without giving any thought to how it would actually work. This Grant, however, stood firm in his convictions and refused to let his emotions get the better of him. It was a nice change.

“Then let’s figure them out.”

“Alright then. Look, the whole commitment thing...you left because you weren’t ready to have a kid. Are you sure you’re ready to raise one now?”

“I dunno.” She admitted. “But I’m willing to try. Really fucking try. And I know I’ll fuck up and I’ll be a shitty mom sometimes but I wanna be there for him.”

“You decided all that in a month?”

“Well...it’s a long story. But yeah, I did.”

“But do you mean it? Honestly?”

Cait's walls of defense immediately shot up at that moment, her body instinctively readying itself for a fight. She knew he didn't have bad intentions, knew he was just asking an honest question, but after 26 years of being looked down on by every human in her life, she couldn't help but take it all personally. 

“Ya callin’ me a liar, McKay?”

“Hardly,” he rebutted, “but I just don’t know if you really know what it means to be a parent.” 

“Course I don't, I’ve got no experience doin’ the damn thing. What’s it like?”

Grant let out the longest sigh and shook his head, clearly searching for the words to describe a situation like this. 

“Yesterday, Cooper insisted for half an hour that he wanted a mirelurk omelette for dinner and outright refused to eat anything else, so like any good parent, I went out to Diamond City and bought some mirelurks eggs, only for him to not eat the damn thing because it ‘smelled funny’.”

“Jesus. Is that the worst of it?”

“Not even close. But if I tell you anything else, there’s no chance you’ll stay.”

“Ya really don’t think I can handle it huh?” Cait sighed, Grant's cynical attitude putting a serious damper on her earlier mood.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Well, one thing was clear, Cooper meant everything to Grant and if there was any doubt that she’d be willing to parent him the right way, they were done for. Judging by her sorry performance today, there was no way she would be able to convince him of her true intentions with words alone. So with veiled hesitancy, she pulled out the glove and ball she had bought for him, and hastily pressed them into Grant’s chest.

“Here, take it.”

“What’s this?”

“It's for Cooper.” She murmured quietly, gaze fixated on everything but Grant’s waiting gaze. “I care about him too, ya know? Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“No, I...I wasn’t saying that.” He responded, voice noticeably softer now. “I just...I want you to know what you’re getting into. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“Neither do I. I wouldn’t come here if I thought I’d be.”

“Look I don’t know why you came here Cait, I don’t." He sighed, his voice heartbreakingly exasperated. "Maybe...maybe I’m just a third beer to you or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“Third beer?” 

“Third beer.” He repeated, eyes stoic and glazed over. “The first beer you gulp down with tearful gratitude. The second beer is a continuation of the first and is almost as good. The third beer....well the third beer you just drink cause it's there, it can’t hurt and what difference does it make? Maybe that's all I am to you.” 

Cait stared over at his empty gaze, hardly believing what he was saying. After all these years, after all they had been together, how could he possibly think he was just a convenient fling for her? Even though they had fallen apart over the years, could he really think he was that meaningless to her? Could he really not see how much she needed him? 

“Grant yer not a damn beer, you’re my favorite person in the whole damn world. I love ya more than I ever thought was possible and I...I...fuckin’ hell, I want ya back more than anythin’. 

Cait didn’t really know what she was expecting from Grant in response, yet what surprised her the most was his dead silence. She didn’t dare say anything else, in fear of fucking up even harder, so they both became silent for a moment, staring at each other with those sad, loving eyes. She hated it. Because judging by the way this conversation had went, silence was just a confirmation of her worst fears. Silence meant it was over, that he was going to tell her that he loved her but it wasn’t going to work out. Silence meant she would walk home alone, hot tears streaming down her face as she cursed herself out for ever thinking she had a shot. And just as the tears began to well up in her eyes, Grant slipped his hand into hers, meeting her sorrowful expression with the same loving smile she fell in love with.

“I believe you. I really do. And if you’re serious about making it work...then...well...”

Slowly but deliberately, Grant pulled Cait into his body, and pressed a solitary kiss on her lips, the action saying more than words ever could. In that moment, she understood fully how much this man loved her, and how much he was willing to go through for her. After all she had put him through, after leaving him to raise their son on his own, he was here, still giving her the time of day, still kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He really gave her more kindness and patience than she ever deserved. But today, Cait refused to look a gift horse in the mouth, and even if she didn’t deserve his love, she was going to reciprocate it the best she could. 

Still, one thing kept nagging at her, something that just didn’t make any damn sense.

“I don’t wanna take yer kindness for granted but... well, how can ya forgive me after everything I’ve done? How do ya not hate me?”

Grant laughed just a little at that, his eyes full of joyful exuberance disproportionate to the question at hand. 

“Do you want the poetic answer or the truth?”

“Both I suppose.”

“Alright, well the poetic answer says that fucking up and being forgiven is what love is all about. Marriage is just screwing up over and over and hoping that the other person loves you enough to know that’s not all you are.”

“And what’s the truth?”

“The truth is I fucking hated you for the first three years. It was hard not to when I was covered in piss, shit and vomit, sleeping 3 hours every night, and thinking about how you were probably hooking up with some dude, having the time of your life. I mean, the whole reason I showed up to your bar that night was so I could chew you out and give you a piece of my mind.

“But ya didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.” He corrected. “One look at you and I lost my will to scold. And we both knew what ended up happening that night.”

“Oh I sure do.” She said with a devilish grin. “Still have bruises from it actually.”

“Yeah, and I walk with a permanent limp now.” 

They both laughed and looked at each other, looking younger than they had in years. And for the first time in a while, the silence was finally good. Really good. 

“So...are we...”

“Married again?” Grant finished, seemingly knowing exactly what was on her mind. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, can I tell you a secret?” He asked, that signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Always, McKay, always.”

“I never actually signed the divorce papers.”

“So we’ve been-“

“Married for 7 years. I think our wedding anniversary is coming up in a few weeks actually.”

“Does that mean I’ve gotta get ya a gift?”

“Absolutely not. You coming back,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into Cait’s cheek, “is the best gift I could have asked for.”

Cait could hardly contain herself at his touch and his words, nearly overcome with emotion at this point. One of the things she had hated most about her life was all that time she had spent her entire life at the mercy of others, and how much her wellbeing had depended on the whims of power-hungry assholes. Yet as she felt Grant's arms wrap around her torso, she couldn't help but smile, so damn glad she had put her future in the hands of a man with the patience and forgiveness of a saint. 

“What did I ever do to deserve a man like ya?” 

“Shh, no more of this deserving crap. I’m yours now and you’re mine, let’s leave it at that.”

With a slight nod, Cait agreed, just letting herself be loved by the man she loved so much. And so they sat, tangled in each other's arms, both holding back tears the best they could. At last, Grant pulled away, staring into his wife’s eyes with a look she thought she’d never see again. 

“It won’t be easy you know. Any of this.”

“I know. But the McKays have never done easy.”

“You’re damn right they haven’t.” Grant smiled, squeezing her hand even tighter. “Let’s get inside. There are some introductions that need to be made.”

With heartfelt delight pounding in her chest, Cait obliged, letting herself be taken inside by her husband.

“Cooper,” Grant announced, eyes welling up with joy, “I’ve got someone special for you to meet.”

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the fact that I hate how I executed this ending, this whole concept of Cait pursuing Grant instead of the other way around is super interesting to me. We all know Cait isn't the type to ever come crawling back to anyone but here she is, trying to convince Grant McKay of all people to rekindle their relationship. Now why exactly did I do this? There a couple of reasons, but one of the main ones was that I really wanted to show *why* their relationship works, namely that with each other, they both become different, better people. They're not completely changed - Cait's still terrible at expressing her feelings, and Grant is still way too eager to take Cait back - but overall, they're more thoughtful, more loving, and become willing to swallow their pride. That kind of love, not angry insults or drunken hookups is what their relationship is really about and although this ending isn't my favorite, I'm glad I got to write it. 
> 
> Now that we've discussed why I included that, let's talk about why I decided to omit Cait actually meeting her son. Honestly, I don't even have some deep, grand explanation for that, I straight up did not want to write something so awkward. Just think about it, imagine how a reunion between Cait and the son she abandoned for 5 years would go. Yikes. That's not to say that she'd be a bad mom or anything, in fact, in 3 out of the next 4 endings, we see Cait in action and spoilers, she's not half bad at this whole parenting thing. 
> 
> Anyway, the realistic branch is coming next Monday, and while that chapter is dreadfully short (sorry about that), I think all of the realistic endings are top-notch, and the realistic-bad ending coming next Friday might be my absolute favorite ending out of the 7. Regardless, thank you all so much for 4000 hits and I'll see you on Monday!


	62. Plunged Back into Darkness

Cait swallowed hard, her brain refusing to say the thing she knew she needed to say. She knew this is how it would end up, knew there was no other solution but God it was so damn hard to say it out loud. Because she didn’t want this, didn’t want it to end up this way, and she would give anything to change it. But this was how the story ended, wasn’t it? How things had to go. 

“It’s not...it’s not goin’ to work out Grant. We love each other but that alone isn’t enough to make a marriage work. It’s....it’s just not workin’ out.”

She held her breath in her lungs, waiting for him to cry, or beg her to stay, or... something. 

But it didn’t come. 

Because he agreed.

“I know.” 

“You know?”

“Yeah.” He agreed solemnly. “I know. I know it hasn’t been working for a while and I know it’s not gonna work out. I know.”

Cait’s heart dropped the moment she heard that.

This entire time she thought Grant was in the dark, oblivious to the fact that their relationship was crumbling apart. It would have been easier that way, but the McKays never did easy, did they? Cait thought back to the exact moment she realized it wasn’t working, and the heartbreak and pain she went through as she grappled with it. The thought of Grant going through that same thing broke her heart for some reason and just made this whole situation so much worse. 

“So what are we gonna do?” 

“I don’t know.” He sighed, rubbing his face into his hands. “I can probably get Home Plate back if I call Geneva and pull a couple strings, I’m su-“

“No, I mean about the baby.”

“Oh. Oh I didn’t realize you were- um, well, honestly, it's whatever you decide.”

“That’s it?” She questioned. “You’re not goin’ to convince me to keep it or anythin’?”

“No. It’s up to you. If you decide to keep it, I’ll be there for you and help you raise it, but if you decide to...abort it, I’ll support that too.”

Judging by the way he stumbled at the word ‘abort’, she could tell that was a bold-faced lie. But the fact that he even cared enough to lie in the first place did mean a lot to her. Honestly. But for once, she wished he would insist, convince, beg, _something_. Because this was all too much for one person, this decision was... way too fucking much. 

“How the hell do ya expect me to make that decision?” 

“You’re the only one who can make it.” He shrugged, a sad little smile playing on his lips. “I’m going to sleep now, I’ll have my stuff packed up by the end of the week.”

“Wait, _your_ stuff? You’re movin’?”

“Well, yeah. I’d figured that you’d keep the house and I’d move back into Home Plate.”

Cait shook her head, refusing his offer outright.

“This is your house, Grant. Always was. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Grant flicked the lights off, returning her into the darkness once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter's brevity, but the next batch of chapters, in my totally unbiased opinion, is absolutely fantastic, and the one coming this Friday might be the best out of all the 7. I'm super excited to share it with you and I'll see you this Friday!


	63. My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me? (The Realistic-Bad Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Forfeit Ending
> 
> Occurs a year after the events of chapter Sixty Two

Grant collapsed into his weathered, leather couch, ice-cold beer in his hand as he began to drank his exhaustion away. Two whole weeks of a crying, whiny 4 month old had taken a toll on him and now that he finally had some peace and quiet, he couldn’t even appreciate it. Cooper had been dropped off at his mom’s house almost a full 12 hours ago, yet he swore he could still hear the high-pitch squealing of his infant son. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Cooper, loved him more than anything but goddamn was he the biggest pain in the ass that ever existed. Non-stop crying, shit, piss and puke everywhere, being a dad was really no fun. It had been 270 plus years since he had been a proper father, but he never remembered Shaun being so difficult. Then again, Shaun had been blessed with the most patient woman in existence as his mother, and Cooper...well. 

Parenting like this... it was hard to say the least. Constant drop-offs back and forth, never-ending communication issues, two lonely, fucked up people living apart while trying to parent as one. It was times like this that he wished they had stayed together, at least tried to work their damn problems out. He knew deep down it wasn’t meant to be, that their relationship just couldn’t work but...it was good to dream sometimes, you know?

Grant stopped right in his tracks, refusing to get into the same damn thing he had been grappling with for months now. So he began thinking about other things: baseball, the beer in his hand, that one really cringy thing he did that one time, yet despite his best efforts, all his thoughts seemed to drift towards his ex-wife and the son she currently had custody of. And as soon as he started thinking of _them_ , his brain did that thing where it went 1000 miles a minute, thinking about the past, present and everything between, and that my friends, was no fun. He was supposed to _relax_ tonight after all, so maybe he just needed to shut his eyes for a little bit, start dreaming of a tropical vacation, and a couple margaritas. Yeah that would do just fine. 

And it did. In fact, he was just about to take a sip of his third imaginary Pina colada, when he was abruptly woken up by a series of rapt knocks at his door. 

Just great.

He staggered to the front door, tripping over himself like he was wasted. Knowing his little circle of friends, the person behind the door could be anyone: Hancock asking him if he could spare a little Jet, Maxson ordering him to murder another Brotherhood member, who knew? He was prepared for a litany of people, but instead he found the one he really didn’t expect to see.

Cait.

And Cooper.

Wrapped tightly in her embrace was their baby boy, shrieking and wailing as her arms rocked in that all too familiar motion. 

“Cait. Uh, here, lemme take him.” He urged, quickly pulling his son into his chest. “I’ll put him to bed, just make yourself comfortable.”

She wasted no time in accepting his offer, immediately collapsing onto the couch as he rushed Cooper into the nursery. 

“Hey Coop.” Grant murmured softly, desperately trying to coax the boy to sleep. “Were you giving your mom a hard time? That’s not very nice you know, I already do enough of that.”

The only response he was met with was a shrill cry, so he continued, shooting the shit with him in the hopes that he would fall asleep.

“I know, I know, you’re alright buddy, you’re alright. Take it easy.”

He continued to sway back and forth, waltzing around the room to the tunes of high-pitched wails, soon dimming down into a soft whimper. Eventually the boy settled down, his former wild manner softened as his eyelids began to shut in self-incurred exhaustion. Grant set him down softly in his crib, taking a solitary moment to admire his boy before returning to the living room. In moments like these, he couldn’t help but be filled with so much damn love for his boy, relish in the parental pride he was robbed of 270 years prior. He knew damn well that those feelings would be long gone in the morning, when his son was yelling at the top of his lungs, crying for something Grant couldn’t give him, but now? Well...he was pretty damn cute right now. Yet as normal as this scene was - him watching as his baby boy drifted off to sleep - there was still something incredibly abnormal about this whole situation, namely the fact that his ex-wife had knocked on his door at 3 am in the morning. 

Well, here went nothing.

Grant headed out into the living room, taking a good look at the woman in front of him. Cait honestly looked a mess right now: deep-set bags under her eyes, disheveled appearance, an expression of abject misery. He hadn’t seen her look this bad in a while, then again, he hadn’t seen much of her at all since they split up. Yet despite their newfound separation, he couldn’t help but pity her, want nothing more than to wrap her up in a hug and tell her it was gonna be okay. So he did. Despite all his reservations and fears that she’d knock him out on sight, he did. With a romantic gentleness he hadn’t shown in months, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his body, whispering words of encouragement as he desperately tried to cheer her up.

“I don’t know what’s going on Cait, but I promise you that whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

“I know ya are. I know ya are, that’s why I came here.” She choked, her words coming out pained and forced. “I...Grant I...I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t...I can’t be a mother anymore.”

Grant gave her a knowing look and sighed, often having those exact thoughts when things got bad.

“I feel the same a lot of the time. Being a parent is hard, no one warns you how h-“

“Grant, I mean it. I’m not just tired, I just... I can’t take care of Cooper anymore.”

“No I know, I know, all of this it’s...it’s overwhelming. If you need to leave him here for a few days or something, I get it, we all need a break sometimes and God knows-“

“Ya don’t get it, I can’t be part of his life anymore!”

“W-what?” Grant stammered, suddenly taking this whole situation a whole lot more seriously. 

“I tried, I really tried to be a good ma but... but I just can’t be a damn parent.”

“Cait, that’s nonsense, I’ve seen how you take care of Coop, you’re better than you-

“Grant, yer not listening to me. I...I can’t handle it, alright? Ya don’t know how fucked up I am. I’m...I’m a fuckin’ terrible ma. There are nights where...where I think about hurting Cooper...think about strangling the life out of him. If I hadn’t taken him here tonight I...I don’t know what I would have done to him.” 

Grant watched his ex-wife speak in abject horror, mouth gaped open as his heart began to throb in his chest. Soon his brain began to race with horrible, horrible images - thoughts of his son being taking away for the second time at the hands of his own damn mother. His former pity was quickly transitioning to pure rage, and before long, he was seeing nothing but red. 

“You...you would have killed our son? For what, for crying? You-“

“I know its wrong Grant! I know everything I’m thinking is fucked up! I...I’m turning into me own damn ma and I need to give him up before I start treating him like she did me.”

“So that’s it?” He spat. “You’re just gonna drop him off and call him a day? You’re not even goin’ to try to fix it?”

“Ya think I asked to be like this? I’ve been fuckin’ trying to change but...I just can’t. I’m fucked up, plain and simple and nothin’ I do is gonna change that!”

Normally, Grant would do everything he could to assure her she wasn’t but the thoughts of his dead son began to swirl around his head again and all his sympathy evaporated right then and there. 

“Cait, I...this hasn’t been easy for me either. This whole thing...it’s...”

“I know, I know, it’s not fair to ya, and I’m sorry for that. But Cooper deserves better than me and yer a good father. You’re the right one to take care of him.”

“A boy needs his mother too. You can’t just leave him like this.”

“He doesn’t need me, he doesn’t even know me.”

“Yes, he does, both of us need you.” Grant murmured back, not even stopping to think about what he had just said. “You can’t just up and leave like this, Cait, not when so many people are depending on you.”

He had meant those words truly and honestly, yet by judging the look on Cait’s face, it was clear that she didn’t buy one word of it. 

“Stop shittin’ me. You and Cooper, you two need each other. Cooper needs a good person to raise him and ya always wanted a kid. It’d be better for da both of ya if I just fucked off.”

“That’s not true, you can’t-“

“This shite isn’t up for discussion Grant! I’m too fucked up to ever be a good ma, I knew it from the beginning and its still true now.”

It was at that moment that it began to sink in for him, when he slowly began to realize that her mind had been made and that no declaration could convince her to stay. The finality of her decision began to weigh on him, until all he could do is ask her what the hell she planned to do next. 

“So what’re you going to do next, just...leave?” 

“Dunno. Might go south to the Capital Wasteland, might hang around here for a little while, I haven’t made up my mind on what I wanna do yet.”

“So its like that huh? Just pack your bags and head south, is that it? Didn’t know it was that easy for you.”

Grant looked down at the ground in pensive anger, a storm silently brewing in his chest as mulled on Cait’s seemingly carefree attitude about abandoning him and their son. She must of seen his stony expression, because before long she grabbed his arm, drawing his attention away from the floor and back to her.

“Grant, this isn’t easy for me alright? I didn’t just decide to leave on a whim today, I’ve been thinkin’ about this for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought I could fix it, I knew it would hurt you and I...I wanted to try and stop it before it ever got to that.”

“Well it worked fucking great! You know, if you had told me I could have helped, I could have done something, it didn’t have to end like this!”

“It was gonna end like this no matter what Grant. I was never meant never be a ma. I know ya did yer best to make it work but...I think you knew that too.”

He buried his head in his hands as the horror of this whole situation began to sink in, as he truly began to comprehend what she was saying to him. Cait was leaving. Really leaving. Off to who knows where, doing who knows what, leaving him and his baby boy all alone. Worst of all, she was deadset on this, convinced that there was no chance at change or redemption. This was who she was, and not a single thing could change it. After spending so long loving her, trying to get her to see that she was so much better than she ever thought, here she was, falling back into her same old habits of thinking. In a way, it hurt even more than her leaving. After all they had been through, he still loved her more than anything and even if their relationship didn’t work out, he prayed like hell that she would at least come out of it remembering that she was so much more than the drug-addicted daughter of two wastes of humanity. 

Apparently not. 

It’d be one thing to give up custody but Grant knew this decision came with so much more than that. He knew that after today she’d be gone for good and he’d never ever see her again. As much as he wished for that during his previous rage-fueled late night drinking sessions, he knew that deep down he still loved her more than life and that her leaving forever...fuck. It was something he didn’t even want to think about, yet here it was, staring him in the face as his new reality. As hard as it got for him, he could never seriously leave, he couldn’t do that to her or their son. So why was it so easy for her? Why had she suffered in silence for months without telling him, why didn’t she trust him to do something about it? All he could think of was why, yet the only thing he could get out were choked sobs. 

“I don’t wanna do this Grant. If it were up to me, I’d be da best ma in the whole damn world but...I’m not. I love our son too damn much to let him be hurt like I was.” 

“You’re not like your parents Cait, you’re not.”

“I’m too damn close to them for my likin’. Its better I leave now than for Cooper to get hurt because I thought I could change.”

At this point, Grant could tell damn well that this conversation wasn’t going any which way and that nothing he said or asked could heal that ache in his heart. And if there’s anything their breakup had taught him, it was that prolonging the inevitable only made it even harder, so if Cait was really going to leave...

“You should go. If you’re going to leave just...just do it.”

“Are ya goin’ to be alright?”

“No.” Grant choked out, barely keeping it together. “And that’s why you need to go.”

“Alright. Just know that this isn’t easy for me alright?”

Grant kept his eyes fixated on the ground beneath him as she walked out that door, trying to maintain his composure as the most important person in his life walked out on him and his son. As he thought about what had just transpired, salty, sorrowful tears began to roll down his face despite his best efforts to restrain them, and before long, he had become an uncontrollable mess of a man. 

A relationship between him and Cait just wasn’t meant to work out, he knew that all too well by now, yet now that she had left, all he could do was reminisce on their former marriage. All the fights, screaming matches and lonely nights seemed to pale in comparison to all those nights spent holding each other, the banter shared on the roof as they cracked a few beers open, the promises of a shared forever. And soon enough he began remembering that cold-hearted redhead he swore he hated just a few moments ago, as the young, brash cage fighter he fell in love with so many years ago. God fucking dammit. He didn’t want this to happen, he had done everything to make sure this _wouldn't_ happen. Because he knew damn well what happened when you started romanticizing the past, and he knew how powerless he was to emotional manipulation. He needed to stay level-headed, he _needed_ to stay rational, but as his mind began to replay the best moments from their relationship, it seemed impossible to.

Which was a shame, because a rational man could have saved himself a lot of heartbreak that night. 

Without giving it a second thought, Grant sprinted out of the house at breakneck speed, desperately trying to catch up to Cait before she could get any farther. The harsh night winds continued to pelt him, but that night, no one, was going to stop Grant McKay from seeing the girl he loved. He could have used that time he spent running to actually think about what he was doing, actually _consider_ the consequences of going back to her, but he was far gone at this point. His capital R romantic mind could only imagine how great this reunion could be, and how they could finally unite as a family.

“Cait!” He called out, panting heavily from exhaustion. “Wait!”

The Irish redhead obliged, turning around and meeting his look of exhaustion with a look of genuine surprise.

“Grant? What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“Don’t...don’t go.” He pleaded. “Please just...just stay. We can work it out, alright, we can work it out. Just stay here for now, stay with me.”

“Grant ya know...ya know I can’t do that.”

Cait sighed, glancing up at him with that sad little look in her eyes, the one that he hated. He knew exactly what that look meant for him, yet he continued, knowing full well he was a desperate, pathetic man in this moment.

“Cait...Cait I love you. I love you so much I can’t stand it. I can’t...you can’t leave.”

“I...you know I love you just as much as you love me Grant, b-“

“Then stay. Stay and we can work this out, we can figure something out we-“

“Don’t make this any harder, don’t, pl-“

“Cait, no, don’t...don’t do this." He begged. "We love each other, we, we can-“

“Grant, you don’t get it, I nee-“

“You don’t need to do anything, just stay with me right now, and-“

“I need to go!” She insisted, the tone of her voice making the matter absolutely clear for him. 

Grant stopped his pleading out of shock, mouth agape as he looked at the woman he loved so much.

“I...I still love ya Grant and I always will but I have to go. I can’t stay with you.”

And it was then that Grant, the man who could talk for hours upon hours was left silent, tears continuing to stream down his face as he realized how deadset she was. He didn’t know what to do next. The right thing to do was wish her goodbye, thank her for everything then leave, but he couldn’t bear taking his eyes off her, couldn’t bear turning his back on her like she did him. But he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t watch her leave again like he did just a few minutes prior. So he didn’t do anything. Just stood there like a pathetic sack of shit, leaving his fate in the hands of the one who had broke his heart so many times before. He didn’t know what Cait was going to do next, and that unknowingness that he loved so much as he was falling in love with her seemed to rear its ugly head now. She could slap him, shoot him right then and there, or maybe worst of all, just leave. Yet somehow, the thing she did next broke his heart more than leaving ever could. 

She leaned into him, her body closer to his than it had been for a while now, and pressed a solitary kiss to his lips. It was short and too curt for his liking but it was more than enough to make him fall apart. More than enough to make him want her to come back.

But she didn’t. 

She just looked at him with those sad pitiful, eyes, the ones that longed for things that were not him or their son, and whispered a final farewell. 

“Goodbye Grant.” 

And just like that, she was gone. For good. The woman he loved, the woman he thought he was bound to spend his life with, gone. Out of his life forever. 

And with that, Grant McKay finally broke. 

The weight of his sorrow pressed him into the concrete beneath him, his mind clouding up with pain. His heart grew cold and numb with pent up pain and heartbreak. He was empty, devoid of anything yet simultaneously clogged with pain and anger, hurt and fear. He couldn’t change what had happened, he couldn’t bring her back, all he could do was let out one mournful yell into the heavens. In that moment, he didn’t want her and or their marriage back. He didn’t want a nice house, he didn’t want to be a father. In that moment, all he wanted, more than anything else, was for that cry to be loud enough to reach the ear of God himself. 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this chapter is simultaneously my favorite and my least favorite ending. In my eyes, this chapter is far, far worse than the bad-bad ending. Yeah it hurts to see the two hurl petty insults at each other, but seeing Cait come to Grant's house in exhausted desperation, tell him she can't be a mother anymore, then leave, never to return...damn. They both tried their damn hardest to make their shitty situation better but like their relationship, it just wasn't meant to be, and trying only made the failure hurt even more. And just like Grant touched upon, in this ending, Cait goes back to her old ways of thinking, and still sees herself as the "drug-addicted daughter of two wastes of humanity". In this ending, everyone regresses, everyone is miserable and everyone, including me, is left wishing things could be different. 
> 
> This one hurt to write and in that sense, it's also my favorite ending. It's the culmination of Grant and Cait's storied relationship, and it all ends in the most heartbreaking way possible. While it may not be pretty, it fits both of them well, and we all know the McKays never do easy. In my humble opinion, it's also one of the better-written endings, and I hope this hurts as much to read as it did to write. 
> 
> On another note, the realistic-realistic ending comes Monday and I hope you stick around to read it. I promise this one won't be as bad! See you next week!


	64. Pipfall Sucks (The Realistic-Realistic Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cooper Ending
> 
> Occurs 11 years after the events of chapter Sixty Two

“Cooper, c’mon! We’ve gotta get goin’.”

“No!” He whined. “Just 5 more minutes!”

“Ya said that 15 minutes ago.” She sighed, picking up the various toys strewn around the floor. “Now c’mon, let’s go!”

She heard a loud, theatric sigh come from the loft, followed by the stomping of little feet down the stairs. God that boy was just like his father. On days like this, she wondered how she managed to do it, how she actually managed to put up with both Grant McKay and his ten-year-old carbon copy. Yeah she loved Cooper more than she had loved anything ever, but that didn't mean he didn't drive her crazy day in and day out. At least she would get a two-week break starting today, all she had to do was somehow get the damn boy to actually go. Easier said than done.

“This isn’t fair! Can’t we visit dad tomorrow? I’m so close to beating this level of Zeta Invaders!”

“You’ve been playin’ that game all weekend, ya can stop playin’ for an hour or so.”

“Dad lives so far away though, it’s not fair!”

“Fine, we don’t have to go see your dad. Why don’t we pay your Uncle Codsworth a visit instead?”

“No, not Uncle Codsworth!” He complained. “He's always trying to get me to play some boring game like charades or checkers!"

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, let’s go.” 

With an eye roll and a little exasperated huff, he complied, making sure to drag his feet the entire way.

===

“Are we there yet?”

“We haven’t even left Diamond City yet, what the hell do ya think?”

“I dunno.” Cooper sighed, kicking the concrete beneath him. 

===

“Are we there yet?”

“Yeah we were an hour ago, we just walked right past it.”

“Wait really?” He asked, eyes wide with worry.

“No, not really.” 

“You shouldn’t trick me like that mom, it’s mean.”

===

“Are we there yet?”

“Does this look like your dad’s house to you?” Cait sighed, gesturing to the barren wasteland around them.

“I don’t know, maybe he made his house invisible somehow.”

“Why would he make his damn own house invisible?”

“Maybe he’s hiding from us.”

===

“Are we there yet?”

“Yeah, thank God.” Cait sighed, exhausted from the 45-minute journey that was made 4 hours through Cooper’s incessant questions. 

“Dad!” 

“Hey kiddo!” Grant smiled, wrapping his son up in a tight bear hug.

Cait watched the two boys hold each other in a tight embrace, her dour expression slowly lifting into a hesitant smirk. As much of a pain in the ass as they were, seeing them together like this, and knowing that she had a part in bringing those two lovable goofs together was heartwarming, even if the tough-as-nails Irish brawler didn't want to admit it. 

“So, did you behave for mom?” He asked, finally pulling away. 

“Yup!”

“Oh I call bullshit.” She said with rolled eyes, crossing her arms in exasperation. 

“Oh no, what’d you do, Coop?’

“Nothing! Honest!”

Grant examined the face of his 10-year-old son, trying to put his God-given gift of reading people to use. It’s a good thing his boy didn’t have the stone-cold poker face of his mother, otherwise he’d be royally screwed right now. And if his deciphering skills were right, Cooper’s young face was reading all the telltale signs of guilt. This called for the patented “dad look”, the one that got all little kids to break. If Cooper was indeed lying, he would soon find out in 3...2...1...

“Okay, so maybe I told mom that I didn’t want to come visit because I wanted to finish Zeta Invaders but I swear I didn’t mean it!”

“God Coop," Grant whined, feigning anger, "I spent so long trying to raise you right and this is what I get? We all know that Pipfall is so much better than Zeta Invader.”

“No way, Pipfall sucks!”

“Sucks? Cait, deal with your son, will you?”

“Oy,” she countered, “from 12 pm onward, he’s _your_ son, not my problem.”

“Yeah well no son of mine would prefer Zeta Invader over Pipfall.” He said jokingly, grabbing the young boy by the shoulders.

“You’re ridiculous dad.” 

“I know kid, I know. Anyway, thanks for dealing with him Cait, stay safe alright?”

“Yeah I wi-“

As if on cue, lightning flashed behind her, a sure warning that a full blown storm was on its way. Sure enough, a slow trickle of rain began to fall, not enough to flood the Commonwealth or anything, but well enough to make her walk home to Diamond City miserable. Great, just great. 

“Holy fuck. I-uh, I mean frick,” he corrected, looking down at his young, impressionable son, “holy frick.” 

“It's okay dad, mom says fuck all the time.”

Grant sighed and shot his ex-wife a knowing smirk, Cait returning it with her own. 

“Look, there’s no way I can let you walk back to Diamond City in this type of weather, I’m not a _totally_ terrible person. Uh, I uh, why don’t you stay here tonight?”

“Ya sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugged and threw his hands up in the air, showing a carefree lackadaisy he hadn’t exhibited in years.

“I mean what’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

“Have you met either of us? An absolute shite ton of things.”

“Okay yeah, but that was 10 years ago, we’re mature now right?”

“Dad, didn’t you spent all of last week trying to slurp a noodle through your nose?”

Grant sighed and rolled his eyes, trying to avert his gaze from the smartass look on Cait’s face. She had seen the man in some of his worst moments, seen him as he broke down sobbing after terrible nightmares but still, he really, really did not want her to know the kind of stupid, cringy shit he got around to these days. 

“Alright alright, go to your room Coop.”

“But dad!“

“Coop...” He droned, using the signature dad voice.

“Fine, fine. You guys are so lame.”

Grant ruffled Cooper’s hair and gave him a playful shove, giving him a loving smile before turning his attention to his ex-wife. He gave her a weary little look, trying to deal with this awkward situation the best that he could. They had seen each other every other week for the past ten years, but there was still this awkwardness between the two that hadn’t been broken. It was crazy to think about really, how they had gone from a madly in love married couple to this. He never really thought about it, at least not seriously over the past decade. This kind of dynamic, it kinda just happened after they split, the two helpless to do anything but ride the waves as they came. I mean, he didn't even really see her the same way anymore, and how could he? After ten long years of nothing but "hello" and "goodbye", how could he see her as that young fiery lass he kissed back in Goodneighbor? How could he feel anything but abject apathy and the tiniest tinge of regret towards their relationship? It was only then that he realized that he had said nothing in about half a minute and that they were just standing there, slowly getting soaked on the porch. 

“Uh anyway, we should get inside. Don’t want you to get soaking wet or anything.”

“Sure. Got any booze?”

“Of course I do. How the hell do you think I got through Cooper’s toddler years?”

“God,” she laughed, “he was the fuckin’ worst during that time. He just never stopped screamin’.”

“And everything was a fucking fight. You tell him to put on his shoes and he’d act like he was being tortured.”

“I don’t know how we got through all that shite.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m glad we didn’t fuck him up too badly though, I think he turned out alright.”

“As much as he pisses us off sometimes, I think our kid is pretty great.”

“I think so too!” Cooper agreed, emerging out of the kitchen, Nuka-Cola in hand.

“Hey, I thought I told you to go to your room, young man.”

“Yeah but you don’t really mean that, you’re just mad that I told mom about your noodle slurping.”

Grant sighed and grabbed two beers from the fridge, tossing one over to Cait. By the looks of it, this was going to be a long night, and he was going to need an endless stream of booze to get through it. This day had just gotten started, yet somehow he was already so exhausted. He could really use a good afternoon couch nap right about now, but having a kid meant sleep was never an option, so he’d settle for relaxing onto the couch for a couple minutes. Grant plopped himself down next to Cait, wearily guzzling the beer in his hand. Once he looked up from the drink in his hand, he couldn't help but notice his son staring intensely at the both of them, eyes widened as if they were some supernatural phenomenon or something. 

“What’re you staring at?”

“Nothing.” Cooper denied, face full of concern as he set his cola down and ran upstairs.

“What’s up with him?” Cait asked, taking another sip of her beer.

“I don’t know, kids are just weird like that sometimes.”

“You should go check on him.”

“I know, I know, but I _just_ sat down.” He whined, throwing his head back.

He glanced over at his ex-wife with those signature puppy dog eyes, the ones he had used so often a decade ago. Back then they worked like magic, and just one look at them could have Cait agreeing to nearly anything Grant could scheme up. Today they seemed much less effective. Whether that was because of his age or their lack of chemistry was beyond him but all he knew is that he sure as hell wasn't getting out of this.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go up. Enjoy your beer, lucky bastard.”

Grant reluctantly trotted up the stairs, wondering what could possibly be bothering him now. Cooper had a flair for the dramatic, just like he did, so for all he knew, this could be nothing. Hesitantly, he knocked on his son’s door, cautiously peeking his head in.

“You alright kiddo?”

Cooper kept his gaze on the floor beneath him, not even bothering to look up at his father. 

“I’m fine, I guess.”

“You sure? You ran out of there pretty fast.”

“I don’t know. That was just...weird.”

“What was?” Grant asked, taking a seat next to him on his bed. 

“Just...seeing you and mom together like that. It was weird. I haven’t ever seen you guys like that.”

“I know it’s weird for you kid, but you got to remember that me and your mom were together for years. I mean, if we weren’t together, we wouldn’t have had you.” 

“I guess.” 

Cooper bit his bottom lip and glanced back up at his father for a second, clearly wanting to say something more. Eventually, after a few seconds, he did, asking a question Grant really didn’t want to answer.

“I know you guys don’t like talking about it but...why’d you guys break up in the first place?”

Oh boy. 

Where to start? Cooper had been asking this question for years now, but as he got older, he became less and less satisfied with answers of ‘it just wasn’t meant to be’. He was 10 now, old enough to understand most parts of the two’s complicated breakup, but how much did he divulge? Did he talk about the heartache? How he couldn’t eat or sleep for months after she left? Did he talk about the sleepless nights? How he spent weeks upon end counting the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if it could be different? Or did he talk about the birth? How it felt seeing Cait holding their newborn son, looking happier than any time they had been together? Or maybe he didn’t have to mention any of that. Maybe for the first time in 10 years, he could just let it go. Because he was happy now. And he didn’t mean that in a sad ‘yeah I guess I’m happy or whatever’ sort of way, he was truly, honestly, happy with his life. And she looked happy too. So maybe there was no point in bringing up those awful memories. Maybe Grant could hold onto those painful days and spare his son the trouble of knowing how life in the Commonwealth really was.

Yeah maybe that could work.

“It just wasn’t working.”

“Dad, you _always_ say that.”

“I know kiddo, but that’s the truth. I don’t have some grand answer for you or anything, because that’s what really happened. We loved each other more than anything but towards the end we both realized that the relationship that brought us so much joy at the beginning was now making us miserable. So we had to end it. Does that make sense?”

“I guess. I just wish mom and you were still together.”

Grant looked at his son in pity, wrapping him up in a tight side hug. His boy, who like his mom seldom cried, was now on the verge of tears, trying his damn hardest to keep it all in.

“You know Coop, sometimes I wish we were too.” He admitted, much to the surprise of his son. “But we’re both adults and sometimes adults have to make tough decisions they don’t like.” 

If anyone knew about that, it was Grant. It honestly felt like he had spent his entire life doing that.

“But don’t look so sad kiddo, everything worked out. Your mom and I are both happy and we have you now. You’re worth the breakup.”

Cooper chuckled and wiped the tears forming in his eyes, pulling himself closer to his father. 

“Why do you _always_ have to put some cheesy motivational quote in there?”

“I’m a dad, it’s what we do.”

The two sat in silence for a little while longer, just enjoying each other’s company before Cooper pulled away, his eyes full of contemplation beyond his years.

“I think mom misses you though.” 

Grant’s breath froze in his lungs upon hearing that, as he tried his best to play it cool. 

“Well, uh, what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. A couple weeks ago I saw her looking at a photo of you and her. You guys were sitting in one of Uncle Maxon's vertibirds, and you were in a suit and tie, and mom was grabbing your-“

“I know which photo you’re talking about.” He interrupted, trying to prevent his son from diving further into that borderline scandalous photo. “That shot was taken on our wedding day. Right before we left for our honeymoon.”

“You guys looked really happy in it.” Coop muttered, voice laced with wonder and sadness. 

“I know kiddo. We were.” 

He began to fall into the trap of reminiscing, only to stop dead in his tracks when he realized his son was staring intently at him. He had gone through this reminiscing crap before, gone through it a billion times in fact, and for once in his goddamn life, maybe he could just stop.   
  
“Ahem, well, I miss her too kiddo. And I know we haven’t been talking much these past years but I think it’d be cool if we were friends again. Would you like that?”

“Yeah I think I would.” He smiled, his former sour expression now lifted. “You guys are like the most awesome people I know, it’d be cool if you guys hung out or something. I think it’d be even cooler if you guys hung out and dropped me off at Uncle Deacon’s.”

“No way.” Grant objected, immediately shooting down his son’s idea. “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you visit Uncle Deacon without adult supervision, next thing I know, you’ll start changing your face and lying to me. Now c’mon, let’s go, your mom is probably waiting for us.”

“Wait, can I ask you one more question?” 

“Shoot.” He replied hesitantly, hoping this one wasn't as painful as the first. 

“Could mom beat you in a fight?”

Grant laughed and wrapped an arm around Cooper’s shoulder, pulling him in for a side hug.

“Coop, she would kick my ass.”

“Yeah, that’s what mom said too.”

“Woah woah woah.” He questioned, stopping before he could get to bottom of the staircase. “She really said that?”

“Yeah, ask her yourself.”

Grant shot a look to his ex-wife, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight line. Cait telling Cooper she could kick his ass was perfectly in line for her character but still, he really, really hoped she still knew he was the toughest motherfucker in the Commonwealth. 

“Cait, did you really tell Cooper you could beat me in a fight?”

“Yup,” she confirmed with a devilish grin, “and I meant every word of it. I’ve got 3 years of fightin’ experience from the Combat Zone, and I’ve got no doubt that I’d give ya an arse kickin’ ya’d never forget.”

“You’re really comparing me to the riff-raff at the Combat Zone?”

“You’re right, you’re right. The raiders at the Combat Zone wouldn’t need me to save their arse a billion times.”

“Oh so we’re going there huh?” Grant smirked, crossing his arms in mock competitiveness. “Remember that time I had to nurse you back to health after you got your ass handed to you by deathclaw? Or when you got blown up by a super mutant?”

“I hardly think that’s as bad as nearly gettin’ yerself killed tryin’ to grab a hat off a raider.”

“I think you’re just mad I won the bet.”

“What bet? Which raider?” Cooper asked eagerly, little grey pupils widening in curiosity. 

“Why don’t I just tell you the story?” Grant offered, taking a seat on the couch. “And _I’ll_ tell the story, because if your mom tells it, she’ll exaggerate the hell out of it.”

“Like ya won’t do the same exact thing.”

“Shhh, will you just let me talk? It was a warm July day and Preston had...”

===

“So there I was, face to face with Clint, armed with nothing but my bare fists and a will to survive.”

“What’d you do next dad?” Cooper asked, hanging on every word Grant said.

“Oh c’mon, you had a rifle on ya for God's sake.”

“I don’t seem to remember that. Anyway where was I? Oh right, so there I was, face to face with Clint, armed with nothing but my bare fists and a will to survive. The hat was only a couple yards away and I knew...”

====

“Now he’s got me pinned on the ground, and he starts firing lasers at my head, but I dodge all his shots.”

“Woah that’s so cool! Were you scared?”

“Nope, not at all, because you see, I had a secret weapon.”

“Lemme guess,” Cait sighed, setting down her beer, “was it your superhuman strength? Your incredible intelligence? Or maybe ya had a secret pistol hidden in yer pants?”

“Nope. It was you.”

“Mom?”

“Yup. I was totally screwed, 30 seconds away from certain death and your mom stepped in and saved me. She fired a shot right into Clint’s chest and toppled him to the ground.”

“Woah! You’re like the coolest person ever mom!”

Cait looked over at her ex-husband with a confused look, only to be met with a wink and a smug look on his face. She did her best to process what had just happened, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing. Was Grant McKay just...nice to her? It wasn’t like he was an ass or anything, but for him to be so openly kind to her was... really weird. The two had been cordial to each other for Cooper’s sake but they had never dared to go any further than that. She didn’t know why, but ever since they split up there was some sort of wall between the two, one that stopped them from being actually nice to each other. Sorta like how it was when they first met. They had spent the past 10 years living off a brief ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ at drop-off, so any conversation longer than 30 seconds felt weird at this point. But this? This was even weirder. This weird prolonged interaction between the two was _really_ throwing their whole dynamic off. No, it was doing more than throwing it off, it was... returning it back to what it used to be. Back when they were friends. Back when they could talk to each other freely. She missed that.

Really missed that.

“But you know what, that’s nothing compared to her other stories. Did I ever tell you about that time she took down a deathclaw with her bare hands?” 

“No way! Tell me!”

===

“And so she patched me up, put me on her shoulder, and blasted her way through the rest of the building. Raiders everywhere.”

“Carrying you the whole time?” Cooper said in awe, jaw hanging on the floor.

“Carrying me the whole time. So we emerged from the...”

===

“So with one shot to the chest, the mirelurk queen fell to its death, Cait emerging from the battle unscathed and saving my life.”

Grant looked over at his son, expecting to see his eyes wide in excitement as he begged for another story, the same way as it had been for hours. Instead, he found his boy peacefully dozing off on his mom’s shoulder, mouth upturned in the slightest smile.

God he loved that kid. 

He soon turned his attention to his ex-wife, who looked wide awake despite it being the ungodly hours of the night. Guess some things never changed. All that reminiscing on past glories and escapades had Grant thinking back on all the good old times, back when things were different. Back then, the two would be on the roof by now, watching the stars as they sipped on their lukewarm beers. Man, he missed those moments. He missed how quiet it was up there, how the silence brought him a peace that seemed impossible to obtain nowadays. He missed all those quiet moments spent with a best friend who was barely in his life anymore. He wished he knew back then how much those moments would mean to him now. He could never go back to the past but maybe, just maybe, he could relive it for a night.

“Hey,” Grant whispered, calling the attention of his ex-wife, “beer on the roof?”

Cait gave him a devilish grin and so the night began.

===

Just like the old days, the night began in silence, but this one was different. This one was...awkward. It hadn’t ever been that way between them, ever. They had been immediate friends from the very first day they met, even if they didn’t know it yet. Even from the beginning, they had been comfortable around each other, always ready to poke fun or insult. But this time, the silence was heavy, and both of them could tell the other wanted to say something but couldn’t. I mean, what was there to say at this point? What does one say to one’s former love after 10 years? Both of them were different now, right? Mature, changed people? 

But after a couple minutes, they couldn’t stand the suffocating silence anymore and both knew they had to say _something_.

“So uh, ya ever figure out what was wrong with Cooper?”

“Ah, well uh,” Grant swallowed, “Coop was just a little freaked out about seeing us two together. He started asking me a bunch of questions about our relationship and stuff. It was uh, kinda awkward.”

“Really? What’d he ask?”

“Oh, uh you know, things like why we broke up, why we aren’t together anymore, that stuff.”

Cait sighed and took another sip of her beer, shaking her head in disgust.

“Kids and their weird fuckin’ questions. What’d you tell him?”

“Just the standard, “it just wasn’t working” stuff, you know how it is.”

“Ah.”

“Mhm.”

The silence returned and Grant couldn’t help but blurt something out, just out of desperation to fill it.

“Uh but I, I sorta promised Cooper that we’d start hanging out more and stuff. He seemed pretty jazzed about it. Kinda called us the coolest people he knew.”

“Really? That boy needs to meet more people.” Cait sighed, rolling her eyes. “But uh, what’d ya mean by hang out?”

“Oh I don’t know. I guess we _have_ been pretty distant the past couple of years. I suppose he wants us to talk more or something. Be friends again.”

“Friends...is that somethin’ ya want?”

Panic began to infiltrate Grant's mind as he thought about the consequences of each answer, his mind locking up and refusing to do anything but deflect the question back to her.

“Uh well, if uh, well, do _you_ want to be friends?”

Cait chuckled a little at that, shaking her head playfully. 

“I asked ya first.”

Grant glanced over at her nervously, heart beginning to race in his chest. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Did he even want to be friends? That sounded stupid, of course he did. But what he wanted and what he should respond were completely different things, because he had a feeling that if she knew how strongly he felt about this, she wouldn’t be too interested in ever reconnecting with him. God, this was so stupid. This was the exact same thing he thought when he was thinking of confessing his feelings to her 13 years ago. It was funny, he had always thought that he was different now, a changed, mature man, but at the end of the day, he was the same insecure kid inside. No, he was different now, better, and he wasn’t going to be held back by his doubt and self-deprecation anymore. Whatever happened, happened and if all else failed, he could always jump off the roof.

“Well yeah. I missed doing stuff like this with you. We made a great team, you know? Don’t know why we ever stopped hanging out.”

Cait looked down at the pavement beneath her, trying to hide her growing smile. They had grown apart over the years, could barely call themselves acquaintances now, but yet his words still managed to make her blush like a little schoolgirl. Some things never changed.

But as she looked over at her former lover, it was evident that some things did. He looked like a completely different person, his face now weathered, and his formerly dark brown hair now salt and peppered. But the change went far deeper than that, because this? This whole interaction? It was so...anti Grant. He wasn’t a coward by any means, but when it came to emotional confrontation like this, he always hid, always waited until the last possible second to do anything. But this? T _his_ was bold. This was...different. And she liked it. Because the old Grant would have never invited her onto the roof, out of fear of an awkward conversation, the old Grant would have never answered the question, out of fear of getting rejected. And honestly, if the old Grant was the one asking her to reconnect, she would have said no, but things were different now. And she supposed that things were different enough that what was broken back then, could be put back together now. 

“Well I suppose the Commonwealth got tired of us runnin’ the city and kickin’ everyone’s arse all the time. But I think we’ve given them enough of a break. What’d ya say we start causin’ trouble again?”

Grant and Cait looked at each other with the same devilish look in their eyes, both looking younger than they had in years. It was crazy how it all played out really, how it ended up the way it did. They began talking about how it all started, how they met at the Combat Zone and hated each other’s guts from the beginning. How they grew to become friends, and lovers soon after. And as the sun rose on the Commonwealth, they continued to chat about their past, laughing over their former dates, fights and rendezvous. But as they looked each other in the eyes, they realized that maybe their past didn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe all that mattered was that they were finally back on the same team. 

The way it was always meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry this chapter was posted so late! As I read over the chapter this morning, I wasn't completely happy with everything, so I made some significant edits. I'm very happy with the chapter right now and I hope you are too!
> 
> This was the first ending I wrote and in my head, it's kinda the canon ending (emphasis on kinda). Honestly, even though I've written 3 endings where they stay together, I think the differences between Cait and Grant are too great to reconcile and that a breakup between them is inevitable in a way. That being said, I really do think that they love each other and that if they tried, they could definitely stay good friends. While this chapter only provides a small glimpse into that, a life where they happily co-parent and remain good, shit-talking friends is the best realistic ending the two can have. This ending is also the only ending where Cooper says anything and as you can tell, I really enjoyed writing the family dynamic between the three! Cooper definitely takes after his dad but Cait still makes an awesome parent and I loved showing that maternal side to her. 
> 
> The realistic-good ending comes this Friday and no spoilers, it's very similar to the realistic-bad ending except good, and I can't wait to share it with you. See you then!


	65. Maybe I Do (The Realistic-Good Ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reconciliation Ending
> 
> Occurs 1 year after the events of Chapter Sixty Two

Grant sighed and pressed the glass bottle to his lips, relishing its ice-cold taste as he felt his worries wash away. No more crying, whining Cooper, no more sleepless nights, just a couple of cold drinks, and sweet, sweet silence. Perfect.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his son more than he loved anything ever, but honestly, he seemed to love him even more when he was at his mother’s house and his cries weren’t within earshot. Two whole weeks of dealing with that mess was...well...it had taken a toll on his mental sanity. But now he was free, and spending his first night as a free man drinking himself silly seemed like a great idea as of right now. And so he drank, beer after beer, finishing a full case before his night was so rudely interrupted by the crackle of a handheld radio. If it were up to him, Grant would turn that goddamn thing off and resume with his fun, but he knew who was on the other end of that radio and that woman came before everything else. Always. So despite his profound drunkenness, he reached over and clicked the Push to Talk button, doing his best to sound _somewhat_ sober.

“Hello? Cait? You alright?”

“Grant?” Cait choked out, clearly on the verge of crying. “Ya there?”

“Yeah I’m here, I’m here.” He quickly responded, immediately sitting up at the sound of her distress. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I need ya.” 

“You...you what?”

“Just come over alright? Please.”

Despite their newfound emotional distance and their year-long separation, Grant still knew his former lover like the back of his hand and he knew damn well that she seldom let herself get emotional, especially so openly like this. If she was willing to sound so damn desperate, then something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. And as much as he hated to admit it, he still had a soft spot for her, and hearing Cait overcome with emotion like that, well... it hurt his heart. 

“Look, I’m coming over right now okay? Just hang tight, it’s gonna be okay.”

There was no response, but Grant liked to think that Cait took his weak words of encouragement to heart. He hoped she still knew how much he cared about her. Because you could say a lot about Grant McKay but one thing no one in the Commonwealth could deny was that he loved that woman more than anything. 

So maybe that’s why he rushed out the house without a single moment of hesitation, not even stopping to throw on a coat. It was a decision he regretted the moment he stepped out into the blistering cold, yet with a pounding heart and icy cold hands, he never stopped for a second. The journey to Diamond City was over 15 miles long, yet Grant refused to let up, pushing forward despite the continuous burning in his throat. He tried to keep his mind off Cait to prevent any unnecessary panic but before long, his thoughts seemed to drift towards his former wife, as it so often did. He had little idea of what could be bothering her, but that didn’t stop his mind from trying to fill the blanks. There were few things that could bring Cait to such a state, and the thought of any of them was enough to make him sick. He knew it couldn’t be a physical danger, no way in hell. Even if there was a pack of deathclaws at her door, Cait would put a shotgun slug in each and every one of them with a smile on her face, no doubt about it. So that only left emotional danger and that was much harder to deal with. Even though they had been married before, and had spent so many years opening up to each other, Grant still felt ill-prepared for dealing with any emotional burden Cait may have. Because despite his best efforts, the two weren’t married anymore, and there was still an emotional distance between the two that seemingly couldn’t be repaired. Before, he could have took her into his arms, warmed her heart with his touch, and kissed her softly as he whispered sweet words of reassurance, but now? He had little more to offer her than a couple shoulder pats and a “there, there.” 

So what the hell was he going to do? What the hell was he going to say? What even was there to do, what even was there to say? Grant had spent so much of his life trying to stay in control, tried to have all of his life within his own grasp, yet now, he couldn’t help but feel absolutely helpless, like a little speck of a man in the grand scheme of it all. God, what was he to do? He became so lost in his thoughts that when he finally came to, it had felt like he had gotten hit straight in the stomach with a baseball bat. He gasped for air, choking on any oxygen that did manage to make it into his lungs. But despite the pain, he pressed on, only motivated further by the sight of that lit up city square. He could clearly remember the first moments spent in the so-called Jewel of Commonwealth, and his abstract wonder at all of it. He wanted more than anything to just soak up every second, savor every whiff of noodles and gunpowder, yet now? He didn’t catch a single second of the city sights, instead choosing to make a direct beeline to Home Plate. 

Normally, Grant stuck firmly to the social norms of an ex-husband, and courteously knocked on Cait’s door if he ever did come visit, yet today he barged straight in, paying no attention to what the citizens of the Commonwealth might think. Cait was hurting and he would stop at nothing to make sure she was going to be okay. He didn’t know what he expected to see, yet still, the relatively uneventful sight of Cait sitting on the couch, head in her hands broke his damn heart. Audible in the background, was shrill, unceasing crying, clearly emanating from his son. Yet even so, his fatherly instincts, the ones he swore were unbreakable came second to the love Grant had for his ex-wife at this moment. 

“Cait?” Grant murmured, chest already pounding with anxiety. 

Her eyes glanced up towards his, resting on his soft gaze for a moment before immediately running into his embrace. Cait had never been a hugger, especially not an unsolicited one, so even as Grant wrapped her up in his arms, he couldn’t shake an awful uneasiness. A hug from Cait when they were married would have been weird enough, but now that they were separated? It was about as strange as a deathclaw fucking a synth. Something was seriously wrong.

“Hey there.” He murmured into her ear, unintentionally breathing in her scent while he was at it. “What’s going on?”

Cait didn’t respond, and only buried her head further into his shoulder. Her grip on him began to tighten, clearly indicating that she wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. Normally he’d be perfectly content to stay right here with her, holding her until her troubles melted away, yet the pained cries of their sons refused to cease and soon enough, it grew too much for him to ignore.

“I’m gonna go take care of Cooper alright? I’ll be back soon.”

Knowing Cait, she usually would have made some cocky comment, a sarcastic “good luck” or even just shoot him a smirk, yet in that moment Cait was completely silent, Grant so desperately wishing she would say something, anything at all. But despite the achy uneasiness in his chest, he pressed forward to Cooper’s room, greeted by a wail he had become all too familiar with. Without a second of hesitation, Grant picked the boy up and threw him onto his shoulder, softly bouncing him up and down as he had done so many times before.

“Hey buddy.” He cooed softly. “You giving your mom a hard time? That’s not very nice, I already do enough of that, you know?”

The crying continued, and so did Grant’s little speech.

“Us boys have got to be a little nicer to your mom, it sure as hell ain’t easy dealing with the both of us so often. You and I, we’re all she has. And God knows I’m enough of a jerk, so you gotta help her out, alright?”

Slowly but surely, the boy’s defiant bawls began to dim down into soft whines, Grant’s patient words clearly doing a number on him. 

“What’re you even crying about man? You’ve got everything a guy could possibly want: unlimited food, a warm house to sleep in and the coolest parents in the whole Commonwealth. You know how many people would kill for that?”

He looked over at the baby boy, trying to gauge his reaction to such a rousing speech, only to see that he was fast asleep, plump cheeks squished against his shoulder. It was actually kind of hard to believe actually, that this tranquil darling was the same hell-raising devil who was screaming his head off just moments ago. Ah the duality of man. He wished he could just sit here and bask in this peaceful, serene moment of fatherhood, yet he knew full well that just outside in the living room was a broken-down, hurting woman needing his presence, and well...duty called. So with slight hesitancy, Grant set his son down in his crib, sending him off with a soft kiss on his forehead and whispered “goodnight.” With that done and accounted for, he headed back out to the living room, Cait readily waiting for his return. 

“Hey.”

Grant lightly cursed at himself the moment he uttered that, so goddamn ashamed that “hey” was all he had to offer to someone hurting so bad. He used to have such a way with words, always knew exactly what to say to get her to smile, even when she didn’t want to. But those were different days, days long gone and now all his mind could conjure up with a simple, stupid “hey.”

He really fucking hated himself sometimes.

But despite the self-hatred pounding in his skull right now, Grant pressed on, conjuring up the courage to walk right up to her and take a seat. The two looked at each other for a moment, sharing a quizzical glance, before turning away once they realized the other had nothing to say. What was there to even say? 'Hey why the hell did you call me over at 3 in the morning, don’t you respect my goddamn free time'?

No, he needed something good to say and in the absence of that, something good to do. Without even thinking, Grant slid his arm over, gently slipping his hand into hers without so much as a second thought. The gesture took both of them by surprise, yet he remained firm in his decision, tightening the grip on her hand ever so slightly. It was funny really, he could have sworn he had forgotten what Cait’s touch had felt like, yet in her hand, his felt at home, that sandpaper touch reigniting a feeling in him that he thought was gone with their relationship. Yet the mood in the room still remained ostensibly tense, and the simple handholding gesture was little more than a non-starter. 

“So...what’s on your mind?”

She shook her head and sighed, a little sad smile hanging off her lips.

“Yer hands got softer. The hell have ya been doin’ to them?”

“Baby powder. It works like a damn charm.” He responded, a little thrown off by the ridiculousness of such a question in a moment like this. 

Cait’s only response was a little snort, the room soon filling up with the suffocating silence Grant had come to loathe so much. Every fiber of his body was telling him to fill up the silence, to blurt out something, anything, no matter how stupid or irrelevant, just to save this goddamn hellhole of a conversation. Yet he resisted, knowing full well that bearing through his silence was completely necessary in this moment. If his time with her had taught him anything, it was that pressing her would get them absolutely nowhere, and that if she wanted to tell what was wrong, she’d do so on her own damn accord. 

So he waited. And waited. 

And soon enough, the brawler’s vacant, glazed over expression began to crack, starting with a slight quiver of a lip, and ending with her on the verge of tears. She tried her best to keep her stoney facade intact, but Grant knew her damn well, and the fact that she still felt a need to keep her weaknesses hidden hurt him more than she could ever know. 

“Grant it’s...it’s been so damn hard.” She croaked, voice overcome with emotion. 

“What’s been hard?”

“All of it. Being a ma...being alone...I can’t do it anymore. Ya drop Cooper off and I swear I want nothing more than to be rid of him and have some peace and quiet. Then he leaves and I’ve got to drink myself drunk every night cause I hate the quiet and loneliness. I...” 

Cait paused for a moment, face clearly pained as she forced herself to say the next words. 

“I’m fuckin’ miserable Grant. The last year has been...it's been so damn hard. I’m drinkin’ like a damn fool, I’m back on Psycho, I...I’m fuckin’ fallin’ apart.”

It was only then that Grant looked down and saw the numerous track marks on Cait’s arm, both the fresh, recent ones and the ones gained years back at the Combat Zone. He had seen these scars before, yet it didn’t mean that he could ever get used to such a visual reminder of the sort of pain she was in. He thought back to the first time he saw her scars, a week after she punched him straight in the jaw and they had stopped talking to each other. That night was the first time she opened up to him, the first time they started acting like real friends. Things really changed between them that day and maybe today, that could happen too. From the moment they separated, Grant had been longing to reunite with his former lover, longed to become husband and wife again. But as much as he hated to admit it, their marriage had become fundamentally broken and had issues that just couldn’t be fixed. Yet as Grant looked into Cait’s teary eyes, and contemplated her mournful pleas, it seemed impossible that things could get more broken and fucked up than this. If he could, he’d make her case for a reunion right then and there, tell her how she didn’t have to be alone anymore and that together they could make it work. But the words that usually came so easy for him refused to manifest tonight, leaving him to do the stupidest thing he had done in years.

Without thinking it over for a single second, Grant placed his hand on Cait’s cheek, stroking it softly before placing a soft kiss on her lips. He did it without thinking really, the motion of it all completely instinctive to him at this point. It had been over a year since they had kissed, a year since they showed _any_ sort of intimacy towards each other, but something about it felt completely natural to him. Despite his instinctive ease towards it, he pulled himself away the moment he came to, horrified by his stupid, knee-jerk reaction. What the hell was he thinking, kissing his ex-wife like that? Judging by the look on Cait’s face, she was just as surprised as he was. Fuck.

“What the hell are ya doin’ Grant? The fuckin' hell are ya doin’?”

“I...I’m, I wasn’t thinking, I just...”

“Ya think it’s funny playin’ with my damn heart like that? Is it all just a game to ya?”

“No, it’s not, I-“

“I called ya over here cause I needed ya, but if yer just gonna fuck with me like this, then ya might as well go, I-“

“No no, fucking hell Cait, I love you!” 

Grant cursed himself yet again, wondering where this newfound boldness was coming from. Yet he knew there was no going back from such a bold declaration, so despite his overwhelming urge to take it back, he continued, pressing forward with his confession.

“I love you Cait. And I...I don’t have any solutions on how to make you feel better right now, at least, no sane ones. But look, all of this...it’s been just as hard on me as you. We both know much of a handful Cooper is...and I know how lonely the nights get and how hard it is. So maybe we don’t have to be alone anymore. Maybe... maybe we can try again?”

“Grant...”

“No, I know it’s crazy, and that this is probably coming out of nowhere, but...”

“It’s not.” She interrupted, somehow looking more distressed than she did 5 minutes ago. “I-I’ve been thinking about it too but...I dunno.”

A few months ago an admission like that would have shot a dose of serotonin straight to his brain, had him jumping for joy like a little kid, but the Grant today was a changed man, one scarred from shit he'd never forget. The Grant today he knew that mere wanting didn't mean shit. They both wanted each other, sure, both wanted their fucked up little family reunited, but that was easier said than done and if they didn't figure it out, it'd never be anything but a stupid pipe dream. 

“I don’t know either Cait. I don’t, but can we figure it out?”

“What’s there to figure it out? You and I know that this thing...us...it just isn’t meant to be.”

“A year ago sure but you and I...you and I know things have changed. I mean look at us, we’re both fucking miserable! I live just to get drunk, you’re back on Psycho, how much worse can it get?”

“I...I suppose.” 

“And you’ve been thinking about it too right?”

“Sure, every now and then but...I dunno. Always seemed like a goddamn pipe dream.”

“Okay so maybe it’s a little crazy" he admitted, "but we’re not exactly the sanest folks around, Cait.”

Cait sighed and plopped herself down on the couch, burying her head in her hands as she tried to process this whole situation.

“Grant, don’t ya remember how this thing ended last time? It’s not as simple as that. We’ve...we’ve got a lot of problems we need to work out.”

“Do we? Because if I’m remembering correctly, we broke up because we couldn’t agree on whether we should keep our kid and live a more domestic life.”

“And?”

“And look us at Cait! Cooper’s clearly alive and well, and we’re both stay at home parents when we’re not depressed alcoholics. Everything you didn’t want has already happened and instead of facing the bullshit together, we’re both alone and miserable!” 

He stopped to take a breath, only then realizing how fired up he had become. Judging by the look on Cait’s face, he had certainly taken her by surprise as well, her eyes wide in shock. He had a feeling that being an angry, ranty little bastard wouldn’t do anything for the case he was making, so he took a deep breath, and took a seat next to Cait, his voice taking a much softer tone. 

“You and I, Cait, we broke up because we weren’t happy together, yet I don’t know if I can get any more miserable than I’ve been in the past year without you. And I know this night has been all over the place, but being here with you...”

His voice trailed off before he could finish his sentence, brain straight-up refusing to delve into the true depths of his feelings for her. He hoped she understood what he was getting at nevertheless, and continued with his speech.

“Look I know it won’t be easy, and I know there are gonna be days where we can’t stand each other but I just...I don’t want us to do this alone anymore. Especially when we don’t have to.” 

Cait shook her head and turned her gaze to the floor beneath them, evidently at odds with what to do. He had spent so much of his time courting her afraid of rejection, afraid of her not feeling the same as he did, yet as he looked over at her gaze, he remained absolutely fearless of any response she may have for him. She was hurting and even if all he had to offer her was a piss poor love confession, he had given her all he had and well, that’s all he could really do. And yet again, he was left waiting for the brawler’s response, which honestly suited him just fine. If this past year had taught him anything it was that he’d wait forever for this damn girl. Always.

Eventually, she turned her gaze back up to him, uttering words he really didn’t want to hear.

“Do you really mean it when ya say you love me or are ya just sayin’ that because it's yer favorite damn phrase?”

Grant sighed and shook his head, hurt that there was even the tiniest sliver of doubt, yet knowing full well he had brought it on himself. His initial instinct was to perform some stupidly over-the-top act of love to prove it to her, but he had a feeling that Cait had had far enough of that tonight. So he didn’t, instead choosing to respond simply and honestly.

“I really love you Cait. Do you believe me when I say that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. And do you love me?” Grant asked, bracing himself for the worst in this moment. 

To his surprise, Cait didn’t even hesitate for a moment, snorting a little before responding. 

“Of course I do Grant, yer my damn best friend.”

“Is that your way of friend zoning me, or...”

“If I wanted to friend zone you, I would have thrown ya out the moment ya tried to hold me goddamn hand.”

“No you wouldn’t.” He laughed sarcastically. “You know you can’t resist these baby powder softened bad boys.”

Cait rolled her eyes and gave him a little shove, clearly fighting back a smile.

“Ya’ve got some nerve tonight, dontcha?”

“Hey I sprinted 15 miles here, I figure I might as well try to get some hand-holding action in while I’m at it.” 

“Yer fuckin’ ridiculous, ya know that?” She smirked, playfully shaking her head.

“I know. But you love that about me, don’t you?”

“For some damn reason, I do.”

The two fell back into silence, except this time, that silence resembled the one found so long ago on top of Home Plate rooftops, rather than the suffocating one that seemed to dominate so many of their recent conversations. Grant basked in its glory, Cait’s happy smiles seemingly providing the answer to his proposal. Yet still, he was still a sucker for sentimentality, and he couldn’t help but want some final conclusion to this. 

“So...what’s next for us?”

“Dunno. What’d ya have in mind?”

“I’m not sure either. I always thought I wanted a little house on some land with a horde of kids running around but...I don’t know, I guess I’m realizing none of that matters without you.”

She shot him a look of pure disbelief, actually looking a little amused about the statement he just made. Grant had meant it with all the sincerity possible, intending it to be a declaration of true love and sacrifice, yet Cait seemed to have none of it. Maybe that sort of reaction would have hurt him a couple years ago, back when he was a bright-eyed fool in love but right now nothing could stop the high running through his veins. 

“Ya really threw out yer suburbia dream for a little hand-holding and a kiss?”

“No, I think deep down I still want all those things but I think...I think that as long as my future involves you, I’ll be alright either way.” 

“Well ya don’t have to worry about that. I...well, I want ya as much as ya want me.”

“And you think this...us, can work?”

“I dunno, but I want it to. And we’re both stubborn sons of bitches, so if we want this to work, somehow, some fuckin’ way, we’ll make it work.”

“Heh damn right we will.”

Grant’s chest swelled up with joy as he looked over at his ex, now something more, that loving gaze in her eyes finally matching the one in his. There was still a certain uncertainty about this whole situation, something that would him drove him crazy years before. Not every detail had been discussed, not every kink smoothed out completely but she had agreed to be his again and tonight that was more than enough for him. So with slight hesitancy and a little mischief in his eyes, Grant looked over at his former lover, readying his second proposal of the night. 

“So...beer on the roof?”

“Count me in.”

===

Grant tipped the bottle vertical, sucking up each and every drop as he watched the sun rise to its rightful place on the horizon. Him and his faithful drinking buddy had gone through 2 cases of beer already, and now that he was fairly drunk, he felt bold enough to declare some of the things he had been holding back all night. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

“I missed you Cait, you know that?”

“I know, I missed ya too, darlin’.” She smiled, clearly in better control of her senses than he was.

“No, I...I really fucking missed you. That holotape...the one you gave me a while back, I lost track of how many times I’ve listened to that thing, I...shit that’s creepy isn’t it? Admitting that you’ve listened to your ex-wife’s voice on repeat for a year?”

“Tad bit, but I’m no better. Still got that teddy bear ya stole for me in my room, right next to me bed. Guess we all have our ways of coping.”

Grant threw his head back and laughed a tad bit maniacally, the beers he had a little earlier in the night clearly taking its toll on him.

“Ha I knew it! You’re a big ole softie after all.” 

“And yer an arrogant arse who drives me insane.” She said with a slight smirk, her sarcastic infliction taking him back to better days. 

“Cait, you and I both know that you love it when I drive you crazy.”

“Drive _me_ crazy? You’re the one who kissed me outta nowhere.”

Grant leaned closer to her ever so slightly, eyebrow cocked with that classic grin on his face. This banter, this shit-talking, it'd probably shatter the egos of most Commonwealth men but Grant reveled in it, loving every teasing insult she hurled his way and the way her smirk made his heart race. This year had been hell, broke him in a billion different ways but right now was pretty good, and right now, right here, with this girl? That was all he needed. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss as much as I did.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Didn’t last enough for me to tell.”

“Maybe you need a reminder.”

“Heh, maybe I do.”

So after a whole year of silent, lonely misery, the Commonwealth’s favorite couple had been reunited, the pair sharing a slow kiss as the sun rose to its rightful place on the horizon. The way it was always meant to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I like ending my chapters with "the way it was always meant to be?" This chapter is somewhat similar to the bad-good ending, aka the reunion ending, but I think this ending is fundamentally different than chapter 61 in a couple ways. For one, I really like the premise of this one, the idea of Cait having an emotional crisis and calling over the one person in the world she trusts makes for such an interesting setup and I hope I did the concept justice. Secondly, this resolution feels much more plausible, at least in my eyes. While I'd like to think that Cait and Grant made it work in chapter 61, I gotta admit that reuniting with your ex after a 30 minute conversation and 6 years apart isn't the best idea. The two of them realizing that the reasons for their breakup aren't really valid anymore makes a lot more sense, and while it's implied the duo are reunited for good, the ending is certainly vague enough for interpretation and you can definitely argue that they really didn't commit to anything longterm.
> 
> Anyway, the good branch comes on Monday, and on Friday, the last chapter of Falling in the Fallout will be posted, marking the end of this series. To be honest, it hasn't really sunk in for me, and I can't really phantom that after 10 months it'll be over. I'm sure the fact will sink in as the days go on, but as of right now, I'll see you Monday!


	66. The Silence Speaks

Cait swallowed hard, her brain refusing to say the thing she knew she needed to say. Something about this made her feel uneasy, like it wasn’t the right time. Was there ever a right time to make a life altering decision like this? Maybe she wasn’t ready to make a final decision on it all, but she needed to tell him the truth and be upfront about how she felt, once and for all. 

“You’ve changed Grant. You’re not the same lad I fell in love with.”

She held her breath in her lungs, waiting for him to cry out in protest, or get offended, or... something. 

But it didn’t come. Because he agreed.

“I know. I know I’ve changed and I know I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago, but I’m okay with that.”

“Ya are?”

“I am. Because that’s what people do Cait, they change. That’s not a bad thing, that’s just how life goes. Both of us have changed since we met each other and I think that’s fine. Only question is, do you wanna grow together or do you wanna grow apart?”

Cait could hardly believe what she was hearing, and how calmly he was saying it all too. This wasn’t the sobbing, broken fool she was expecting, this was a confident, put together badass who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to settle for anything less. That was the man she fell in love with. In fact, she was so damn shocked, she didn’t have a clue what to respond, so instead, she fell back on what she knew: sarcastic insults. 

“Quite a speech McKay. How long have ya been waiting to say that one for?”

“A pretty long time.” He smiled. “I’ve been practicing for this conversation for a while now.”

“Oh c’mon that’s hardly fair now, is it? How can I possibly have a fighting chance with a guy who’s been having pretend conversations with himself for a full month?”

“Hey, if it works, it works right?” He laughed, a tight-lipped smile plastered on his face. “Anyway, are we still doing that whole ‘let’s fix this’ thing, or are we just going to pretend we are and hurl insults at each other all night?”

Huh, apparently he was self-aware too.

“Dunno. I kinda like being a pain in the arse.”

“Yeah I know. You’re real good at it too.” He said with a chuckle, a smug smile on his lips. “But for real. What’d ya say?”

“Sure sure, might as well.” 

“Cait.” He said, face suddenly becoming stoic. “I’m being serious. This isn’t like our old conversations where we just shoot the shit then bang each other. We actually have to fix this.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “So how are we plannin’ to fix this shite?”

“I guess we just start being honest with each other. So... what do you hate about me?”

Cait couldn't help but burst out in laughter as soon as she heard that, unable to believe that he asked such a ridiculous question. 

“Sorry...sorry, but *that* was funny.” She muttered, doubling over in laughter. “I mean where do I start? I hate how yer so uptight about keepin’ the house clean, I hate that stupid mustache ya tried to pull off, I hate the way ya-“

“Okay, okay, okay, I get it! Let me ask you this a different way, what am I doing wrong?”

She looked down at the tile beneath her, her smile now faded as she contemplated this huge question. What was he doing wrong? Well...just about everything really. But was any of it really his fault? Everything he was doing “wrong” was...kinda just who he was. His love of the picture-perfect suburban life was a part of his personality, and there was no point calling him out on something he couldn’t change. But...if this was going to work out, and really, honestly work out, she needed to tell him this stuff. Even if it was hard.

“Grant ya...ya keep pushing this relationship further and further and I’m not alright with everythin’ that’s been goin’ on. First it was marriage, then it was movin’, now this...damn baby. I can’t do all this.”

Cait could tell by the way his face dropped that her confession had stung and had hit him right where it hurt. Nevertheless, he did his best to put on a brave face and continue with the conversation.

“Alright, I...I can work with that. I uh, well how far...how far are you comfortable with going?”

“I don’t know Grant, maybe I’d be alright with all of those things if we had slowed down a bit, but they just happened so damn fast, ya know? We moved as soon as we got married, then ya came back from killing Danse and ya just couldn’t stop talkin' about our future kid.”

Grant immediately slumped into himself when he heard that, his entire body recoiling up as her words sank into his brain. She watched as the gears began to turn in his brain, fighting desperately to keep his stoic demeanor. A faint “oh” was all he could muster up at the moment, a little stopgap as he searched for the right words. Words. So many words. Grant had always been a man of many words, loved to talk, loved to crack jokes. So damn quick-witted. He’d always knew just what to say, always knew how to fix everything and light up the whole room. So maybe that’s why it hurt so much to see him so quiet. To see such a talkative guy reduced to dead silence, especially knowing it was her words that brought him to that. Even after an entire month of silence, she could never get used to this empty air. This emptiness where there was once so much. And she wanted it back. She wanted that fullness back, she wanted to hear his stupid laugh and his stupid jokes, and all of his stupid self. She wanted him. And so she was willing to sit in the silence, and somehow push through this emptiness because as far as she concerned, she was gonna do damn near anything to get him back. And there was a lot of silence. A whole 5 minutes of dead, empty air.

Until it was filled with the worst 3 words in the English language.

“I love you.”

No.

Not I love you. God, anything but I love you. I love you meant Grant hadn’t changed at all in their month apart. I love you meant that he was trying to fix this situation with a grand love confession again. I love you meant that was all he had to offer. I love you meant this couldn’t be fixed. 

“Grant...I....I love ya too but I love ya isn’t going to fix what’s broken between us, it can’t.”

“I know.” He muttered sadly, his breath shuttering as he exhaled out. “I know. It can’t really fix it, but I just want you to know that. I want you to know that I love you when I say what I’m about to say.”

He paused for a moment, face twisted as if he was fighting with himself to get the words out. She had never seen that kind of fear and hesitation before. Ever. Not on the faces of the raiders right before she crushed their skull in. Not on the face of her parents right before she blew out their brains. Never. She could only imagine what he was about to propose.

“We don’t have to do any of this anymore Cait. Let’s just...go back to the way things were. We can just pretend that the past six months never happened. We can move back to the city, annul our marriage, start going out to bars again, w-“

“No. We can’t.”

“What?” He sputtered, seemingly in shock that she would turn down such an offer. “Why not?”

“Ya can’t just throw away everything ya want for to try and make me happ-“

“Why not? I’m willing to do it, I-“

“Because I did the same damn thing for ya and I wound up fuckin’ miserable!” 

And so the silence returned. Stunned, pitiful silence.

“Look, what I’m saying is, the conceding shite isn’t goin’ to work, if we really want to be together for the long haul, we need to figure out a real damn solution.”

Grant’s face flashed with confusion, and Cait could tell that he was grappling with the fact that not everything could be solved with heroic decelerations. 

“Okay...so what’s the real damn solution?”

“I dunno Grant, I don’t have all the answers. Neither do ya, but we might as well fuckin’ try.”

“Okay. Let’s try.”

Back to silence.

“Alright I’ll start with an easy one. Let’s move back to Diamond City.”

“What?”

“Let’s move back.” He repeated, a little more confident this time. “This house was supposed to be for the both of us, and if you’re not happy in it, there’s really no point in staying here anymore.”

“Alright well, it’s a start but it’s not goin’ to fix everythin’.”

“I know. But its the right thing to do. And I want you know that I’m serious about making this work.”

“So am I. Which is why I want to stay married.”

“You do? Seriously?” He murmured in wonder, seemingly in shock over what he was hearing. 

“Yeah. But I don’t wanna stay married in whatever’s goin’ on right now. It needs to be different.”

“How different?”

“I dunno. I’ve never been married before, I dunno how it’s supposed to work.”

“Since when have we ever followed the rules?” Grant smirked, a devilish grin on his face. “We can make this marriage work however it needs to work. So. How does it need to work?”

Cait sighed and collapsed into herself, trying to figure out what the hell they needed to do to make this thing work. When she was complaining to herself, there was no shortage of things that needed to be changed. Hell, she probably could have written you a whole damn essay on everything she hated about him. But now that he was actually asking her, it became so much damn harder to verbalize it all.

“Maybe we ought to just relax with da whole settlin’ down thing. I’ve spent so damn long bouncin’ around, that I’ve sorta’ve gotten used to it. Might take me a little while before I’m alright with stayin’ in one place.”

“And I don’t ever think I could live any other way. Two years on the road took its toll on me, I...I don’t think I could ever do that again. So uh...I guess this is the part where we start compromising yeah?”

“Yeah. I suppose it is.”

There went the silence again.

“Alright,” he murmured, “maybe we can do both. Spend half our time at home, lounging around, doing boring married couple things and the other half going around the Commonwealth, kicking ass like we used to.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound half bad. Yer pretty damn good at this whole compromising thing, ya know?”

“Yeah I know,” he chucked, “I am pretty incredible after all.”

“Humble too.”

“You know it.” 

The two smirked at each other with those smug looks on their faces, but deep down, both of them knew they were hiding something underneath their seemingly happy expressions. Because there was one topic they hadn’t talked about yet, one that they had been purposely dancing around the whole night. The baby. That damn baby. Because it was easy to talk about stupid little things like where they should live, or how they ought to act, but this? This was something bigger than the two of them, something the two couldn’t quite handle just yet. Both of them knew it had to be brought up, both of them knew someone had to say something eventually yet both of them waited, trying to avoid the elephant in the room. As the silence grew longer, the avoidance became a game of some sort, a staredown of who would be the first to crack and bring up the damn thing. 

“Fine, I’ll bite, what are you planning to do with the baby?”

“Me? Yer letting me decide?”

“Well yeah, of course I am. Its in your damn stomach after all, it’d be a bit unfair for me to tell you what to do, don't you think?”

Cait stared at him in a mix of confusion and awe, trying to process what she had just heard. She knew how much he wanted this baby, yet here he was, conceding this decision to her. It really shouldn’t have shocked her as much as it did, after all, compromising seemed to be the theme of tonight. Yet after so many years of having someone else’s will imposed on her, this civility was somewhat unbelievable. But at the same time, deep down, a part of her wished he would beg, wished he would insist on her keeping it. Because now that it was solely in her hands, she didn’t know if she could handle it. This was someone else’s damn life, and after what she had done to her parents, she didn’t know if she could stomach taking another life. Then again, the thought of turning *into* her parents sounded even worse, and she’d rather lick the Combat Zone floor clean than ever become her bitch of a mother. 

“I...I don’t know Grant. I really don’t.” 

“You seem like you knew a month ago.”

“A lot has changed since then, ya know that.”

“I do know that.” He murmured matter of factly, arms crossed in silent contemplation. “Well in that case, why didn’t you want to keep it a month ago?”

“Cause I've never wanted kids and I thought ya knew that.”

“So if you don’t want kids, why is keeping it even a question?”

Cait tried to utter a witty comeback, only to realize she didn’t really have one. Her eyes must have given her hesitation away, as Grant began to shift, his face shifting into a contemplative gaze.

“Call me crazy, but I think there’s something deeper beneath all this. If there’s anything on your mind, I’d love to hear it.”

She wanted to badly to play it cool, to shrug off his question and hold her ground, but after so many years of bottling up her deepest fear, she just couldn’t help but confess and vomit up the truth she had been burying for years.

“Because you and I both know that I’m not fit ta be a mother and I’m gonna end up just like me own damn ma!” 

Cait watched as Grant’s mouth dropped, his eyes showing a shock she didn’t expect given the obviousness of what she just said.

“You don’t...you don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“Of course I believe that, its fuckin' true. I know damn well I’m gonna fuck up our kid just like me parents fucked me up.”

“Cait, are you even listening to yourself? You’re already worrying about the wellbeing of our unborn child, that’s way more than your parents ever did for you.”

Cait paused when she heard that, her brain trying to comprehend that seemingly incomprehensible fact. But before she could even begin, he continued, refusing to relent.

“You’re not a monster Cait. I know you think that you are, but I know you and I know you’re the farthest thing from it. I know who I fell in love with, and I know who I married. And I know,” he murmured softly, his hands now resting upon her face, “that if you decide to keep this child, I know you’re gonna be the greatest mother the Commonwealth has ever seen.” 

Her heart soared as her eyes shifted upwards towards his loving gaze, in complete disbelief over what she was hearing.

“Ya...ya really mean that?” She whispered, not daring to speak any louder in fear she would start sobbing.

“Of course I do. I love you Cait.”

Cait’s entire body locked up when she hear those faithful three words, her hands shoving Grant away without a second thought. She wanted so damn badly to believe all of his sweet talk, to just accept his words, but after the last couple months, she couldn’t help but doubt, couldn’t help but chalk this up as another grand speech he was using to push his stupid agenda. God, she was so fucked up, wasn’t she? So damn insecure and paranoid that she couldn’t even accept reassurance from her damn husband, the guy she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Cait, I know you don’t trust me or what I say anymore and I get it alright? I deserve it. But I’m asking you to trust me on this. Please.” 

“I...I don’t know.”

“I don’t know if anything’s gonna convince you besides just trying the damn thing out.”

“Its a fuckin’ baby Grant, there’s no damn tryin’ it out!”

“I...I know.” He sputtered, body collapsing inward. “But I’m not saying you have to do this alone. I’m gonna be with you the whole way. And it’ll be crazy and scary and new, and sometimes we’ll wonder what the hell we got ourselves into but you won’t be alone. I promise you that much.”

Cait mulled on his words for a few seconds, letting her chest collapse with the weight of an exhaled breath. Yeah that together stuff was good and all, but there was one question she’d been wanting to ask, the one that really decided this whole thing for her.

“Grant, if I didn’t keep this baby...could ya ever forgive me?”

Grant’s eyes went wide as his entire body froze in place, his brain struggling to comprehend the question.

“I...uh...eventually, yeah.”

“Eventually? The hell do ya mean by that?”

“It’d take some time. To be honest with you, I’d be pretty damn upset at first, maybe a little pissed, but in due time, I think I’d forgive you. Whether I like it or not, you’re your own person with your own thoughts, desires and feelings and I’ve gotta respect that.”

She looked down at the floor beneath her, taking a couple seconds to observe the little specs of dirt lodged between the tiles. With a shaky breath, she looked up at her husband, his eyes noticeably sadder than they were a moment before.

“Then let’s do the damn thing.”

“What?”

“Let’s have the damn baby.”

“Are you sure about this? You seemed pretty hesitan-“

Without a second thought, Cait grabbed him by the shirt collar and pressed her lips to his, kissing him with all the forceful passion of their early escapees. After going so long without this kind of fiery passion, they could hardly stop, only briefly pulling away for air when it was absolutely necessary. Cait could feel his smile grow as they went on, and could practically see his stupid giddy face begging her for more. And more he would have. On and on they went, drunk on this reckless kind of love, the type they hadn’t felt in months.

Once the two had throughly exhausted themselves, they pulled away, looking each other with that lovedrunk smile they hadn’t seen for months. Despite this, Grant couldn’t help but satisfy his curiosity, and after a night of questioning, asked her one last question. 

“Can I just...what changed your mind?”

Cait, knowing exactly what he was referring to, rolled her eyes, wondering why he couldn’t just let it go. Nevertheless, she humored him, indulging him to the depths of her heart. 

“I just didn’t want to be guilted into one way or another. Knowin’ ya’d be okay with both outcomes makes it easier to deal with the fact that I have to push a screaming devil out my damn stomach.”

He threw his head back and laughed, only for his expression to drop a couple seconds later.

“Hey.” He quipped, grasping Cait’s arm with a gentle tenderness. “Thanks for being honest with me tonight. I know it's hard for you to open up to people and...well I’m just glad you answered my questions instead of punching me in the face.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too. Wouldn’t want to clean up your bloody body off the floor anyway.” 

“You’re delusional.” He chuckled. “I love you.”

To Cait, “I love you” had become a dreaded term, something used against her or to guilt her into doing something she didn’t want to. But there was a genuineness in Grant’s eyes right now, one that told her she could trust his words of affection again. And she did. 

“I love ya too, idiot.” She smiled, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him closer to her body. “Now c’mon, why don’t we make another baby while we’re at it?”

“I don’t think that’s how it wor-“

“Shhh, stop talkin’.”

With a little smirk, and eyes full of mischief, Cait grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bedroom, the two united, literally and figuratively, for the first time in ages. 


	67. A Love Story for the Sinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Good Ending 
> 
> Occurs 2 years after the events of Chapter 66

Cait sighed and flicked the bloody shrapnel off her arm, breathing in the cold winter air as she hummed a little Irish melody to herself. One straight month of taking care of Skinny Malone’s gang had taken a toll on her, and right now, the only thing on her mind was a nice, juicy deathclaw steak and an ice-cold beer. Well... there was _one_ other thing she was thinking about, the same damn thing that had been on her mind since the day they met.

Mr. Grant McKay.

If it were up to her, she’d be by his side right now as the two shared a beer together, laughing and drinking as they discussed the finer points of their son’s babbles. Yet as she knew all too well by now, the life of a bounty hunter seldom afforded for such luxuries. Hunting down the raider bosses, drug lords and mafia kings of the Commonwealth was an all-day task, and most days she’d be lucky to see him for a couple hours before she was back on the road again. It was a hard way of life, but somehow they made it work. As Grant had told her a thousand times over now, he loved her more than life and that if hunting down assholes made her happy, she needed to go do it. So she did. She took bounty contracts from everyone who could pay and hunted down the Commonwealth’s scum while Grant held the fort down at home. It made her happy and all, but like all things in the Commonwealth, it all came at a price. It meant that she missed out on so many firsts: Cooper’s first crawl, his first time sitting up, his first steps. It meant she spent most nights sleeping on the cold dirt instead of in Grant’s arms and worst of all, it meant she spent most nights alone, far away from the two boys she loved so much. But they made it work. And as much as she hated to admit it, Cait really fucking loved bashing in raider heads and crushing Triggermen balls. 

Yet this week, it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that she had the right priorities. She had been out on the road for a full month now, the longest she had ever been gone, and good God did she miss those two babbling bastards. But throughout it all, she kept Cooper’s warm grey eyes and Grant’s smart-ass smile in mind, and tonight, she was going to see them both. She could barely contain her excitement as she came into view of Home Plate, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as she approached. Life on the road meant that she had seen nearly all the northeast had to offer, yet there was nothing she liked seeing more than that same ole concrete house. 

In standard Cait fashion, she barged in without warning, bloodied, a little drunk, but with that same wild, loving look in her eyes. 

Grant’s face came from the shadows, craggy features suspended between bewilderment and joy. Seconds passed, her brain taking him in, struggling to comprehend that he wasn’t one of the pictures she kept in her pocket, that he was real. Her brain failed to formulate a thought, at least not one based in any language, and if she didn’t touch him this very instance, she felt as if her brain would fucking explode. How the ground between them was erased she couldn’t recall, but one moment they were apart and the next, they were morphed into a single being. The warmth of his body met her frigid cold skin, instantly giving her hope like he always did. One of his hands clasped around her lower back, while the other stroked her hair. With each soft touch more tears fell, tears neither of them wiped away. It felt ridiculous crying over just a month apart, yet Cait couldn’t contain herself, no matter how much she tried. She loved this man so damn much and she’d be damned if she was too afraid to show it. She was back home. After so long, she was back in his arms, being held like there was no tomorrow. How it was always meant to be. After what seemed like forever and yet not nearly long enough, they pulled away, drinking in the sight of one other.

“So...you’re back. And not dead.” He laughed, forehead resting on the top of her head. 

“It’ll take a lot more than a few obese Triggermen to put me in the ground, ya know that.”

“I know darling, I know. So did they at least put up a fight this time?”

“Sure but ya’d be playing real fast and loose with the word fight there.” She snorted, now heading to the fridge for a drink. “Valentine told me Skinny Malone and his men would be a real challenge, but they’re nothing more than a couple idiots playing dress-up. They holed themselves up in Park Street Station like a bunch of cowards, made it real easy for me to pick them off one by one. Don’t know what Malone was thinkin’ but crushing his head like a tarberry made all that walkin’ worth it. And his girl, Darla, she’s a real piece of work too, all jabber, no-“

Without a word of warning, she stopped right in her tracks, shaking her head. 

“Oy, I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Tad bit, but I don’t mind. I know I can’t compete with your first love.”

“First love?” She murmured, setting her Nuka-Cola down on the kitchen table. “That title belongs to you and you only, ya know that.”

“Heh, I dunno babe, did you hear the way you were talking about those killings? Hard to compete with that.” Grant laughed.

Cait knew damn well he was joking - he always loved taking the piss out of her - yet something about that statement...well, it didn’t sit right with her. Grant and Cooper, they were her true loves, not cracking an idiot’s head open like a watermelon. She hoped that despite all this distance he knew that. And if he didn’t, she was gonna tell him right then and there, even if she hated getting all emotional-like. 

“Ya know I hate talkin’ about my feelings, and I don’t want to say this again, so listen close alright? You and Cooper are my first and only loves. Everythin’ else doesn’t even come close.”

Judging by his sudden silence, Cait could tell that her words had struck a chord with him, or at least slowed the talkative man enough for a couple seconds. Grant was always a gregarious fella, if he had a comeback, he’d let you know right away, always ready to hit you back with a slick pickup line. But even as they stood there for a solid minute, he had nothing to say, still left in stunned silence from her bold declaration. So Cait McKay did what Cait McKay did best, and filled the air with a flirtatious tease that could make Elder Maxson blush.

“Plus, ya think I would have come home at all if it weren’t for my Grant?” She said in a sultry voice, her hand resting precariously on his neck. 

“Y-your...say that again for me?”

“My Grant. Why? Ya like that?”

“Oh, very much so.” He murmured back, his eyes full of lustful longing. “But uh, well...you should probably have dinner before doing any more...extraneous activities. Plus I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“Really? I’ve got a surprise for ya too. I highly doubt yer topping mine, but you’re welcome to try.”

“Is that a challenge? You know I always win.”

“Oh not today darlin’.” She laughed. “Not today.”

===

“I dunno how ya do it, McKay. This steak is so damn good.”

“Well, after eating Sugar Bombs and Cram for a month, even food from the Dugout would taste good.”

“Oy, shut up with yer stupid modesty and take the compliment, will ya, ya big goof?” She smiled, shoving another bite into her mouth.

“Oh fine fine, if you insist. But if you’re done eating, can we go check out my surprise now?”

“Alright, alright, ya’ve been hyping it up so much, we might as well.”

“I promise it’s well worth the hype.” He smiled, taking her hand into his. “Now c’mon, before he falls asleep.”

“He? Oh don’t tell me ya got a deathclaw or somethin’?” She sighed, reminiscing on all of Deacon’s deathclaw rants.

Grant laughed and shook his head, gently cracking open the nursery door. 

“Considering the fact that I’m leading you to straight into the nursery, I’d say the chances are low. Then again, Christmas _is_ coming up and I still need to get you a gift.”

“For the love of all that is good and holy, don’t get a damn deathclaw for me birthday. Now c’mon, let’s get on with it.”

She watched as Grant entered their son’s room like it was a damn stealth mission, creeping slowly around the various toys strewn about the room, making every effort not to make a single sound. Cait paid no such effort and decided to march straight up to her son's crib.

“Way to be subtle.” He scolded, gently picking the boy up. “Hey buddy, guess who’s back home?” 

Cooper’s hazy grey eyes lit up the moment he laid eyes on Cait, his stubby little arms reaching out for his mother. Instinctively, Cait reached for him and reverently breathed in the scent of her little one’s hair. Her throat tightened as she took in his scent, a wave of immense happiness flooding through her system at the exact same moment. She opened her eyes again to see her beautiful husband watching her fondly, realizing then that nothing could beat this high. Not even the strongest chem in the Commonwealth. Before long, Cait felt Grant lean his head on her shoulder and wrap his big, burly arms around her waist, her husband’s touch instantly igniting something in her.

“So was this your surprise then? A Cooper that isn’t crying or puking all over us?”

“Heh I wish,” he scoffed, “but I doubt this’ll last. I’ve got something better for you though.”

Grant reached over her shoulder and put a hand on his son’s face, his tone instantly softening.

“Alright bud, we’ve been practicing all month, and I’ve been hyping you up all night to mommy, so I need you to cooperate this time alright? Now, can you say the word for us?”

Grant’s request was met with a glazed-over glance, Cooper struggling to comprehend what the hell this giant bearded dude was saying. Eventually, his lips began to quiver, muttering a few indiscernible syllables before exclaiming a joyful “mama!” Cait could feel her entire face light up with pure joy at the sound of that solitary word, a mile-wide smile immediately shooting up across her face. The baby boy’s steel grey eyes found hers and he laughed, as only a baby could laugh. A sweet sound unblemished by the pain of life in the Commonwealth. His little face glowed from a light within, and his miniature fingers grasped hers, and held tight. God, it was almost like he knew. Somehow it felt like he knew that after so long away from her family, she needed a little comfort in the dead silence of night, a little reminder of why she did what she did. She held him to her chest tightly, knowing she’d never let this precious gift go, no matter what came to. Huh, wasn’t it funny how life changed? Somehow, some way, she had gone from someone dead set on never becoming a ma to a mother madly in love with her beautiful little devil. She hadn’t clue what the hell had softened her up like this, but now, she wouldn’t take it back, not ever. 

“Look, I know its not as cool as a deathclaw but-“

“I love it. It’s perfect.” She murmured back, her voice quivering slightly. “Thank ya Grant, this...I love ya.”

“I love you too but... are you sure you like it? As I recall, your favorite surprise usually involves alcohol, sex or caps.” 

Cait immediately shook her head, hardly believing what she was hearing from him right now. 

“Grant, we’ve got plenty of those things.” She insisted, still cradling their son with all her heart. “This...this is worth more than all that shite.”

“You...God, I love you Cait.” He responded, his voice full of that soaring emotion she had grown to love over the years. “More than fucking anything.”

“I love ya too, ya big softie.” She murmured back, lifting her head up, her cheek meeting his. “So damn much.”

And there they stayed, the happy little family of 3 just basking in each other’s endless love. Her moments at home were few and far between but she treasured each and every one she got with all her damn heart. This moment and these feelings right here, they only confirmed that she was absolutely making the right decision. Now all she had to do was tell him.

“Why don’t we let Cooper go to bed now? I’ve still got that surprise for ya.”

“Let? You know damn well that little asshole is gonna stay up till the most ungodly hours of the night. But sure, I love surprises.”

With shaky arms and a pounding heart, Cait slowly set her son down in his crib, readying herself to tell Grant such a colossal life-changing thing. How the hell were you even supposed to tell someone something like this? She knew Grant would probably be ecstatic to hear her news but still, a little part of her worried, feared that he wouldn’t want this like she wanted it. But she would have to tell him eventually, and well, no time like the present. Doing her best to contain her anxiety, she slowly led him to the kitchen table, sitting herself down with shaky breaths. 

“Wow a kitchen table talk? So I guess your surprise isn’t sex then?”

“Ya wish McKay. I’ve got something better...at least I think I do.”

She cleared her throat and let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in, her final preparation for a life-changing announcement.

“Ya remember how I was complainin’ about feeling like shite a couple of weeks ago, right before I left?”

“Yeah, nausea, headaches, I remember. Did you get it checked out like I told you to?”

“Yeah, went to Curie’s and asked her about it. And...”

The words she needed to say got lodged in her throat, refusing to come out no matter how hard she tried. Her silence must have spoken in ways she hadn’t intended, because before long, Grant’s face went ghastly, eyes going bug-wide.

“Shit, don’t tell me you’re seriously sick Cait, don’t play with me like this.”

“Wh-what no! No, I just...I’m pregnant Grant.”

A silence hung in the air for a few moments, Grant’s lack of words scaring her half to death. 

“P-pregnant?” He repeated, his voice trembling like crazy now.

Cait’s heart dropped at the sight of his current expression. Thick beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as he looked at her in wide-eyed shock, mouth opening and closing aimlessly. 

“If yer not happy about it, we don’t have to keep it, I kno-“

“Cait are you kidding me? This...this...”

Without a word of warning, he wrapped her up in a giant hug, lifting the brawler out of her chair with a triumphant ease. She could feel her shoulder wet with his tears, Grant making no effort to contain his emotions. 

“We’re having another kid.” He laughed. “Another one.”

“I know. Another little dope running around causing trouble. I can’t wait.” 

The two held each other for what seemed like ages, both smiling uncontrollably as they thought about the new addition coming to the McKay family. It was really hard to believe actually, how the same girl who was hellbent on never getting married or having a kid just a few years ago was here now, holding her husband as they celebrated her second pregnancy. Funny how life changed. 

“So since you’re pregnant, are you staying home for the next 9 months?”

“About that...”

Grant’s body deflated upon hearing those words, eyes full of noticeable disappointment.

“Uh no, I-I get it, you’ve got a wandering heart made for life on the road and I’ll be damned if I stop you from-“

“Oy, just let me finish my sentence first, will ya? I was just goin’ to say that I’ve been thinkin’ about it and...well I miss ya guys. Being away for so long, it’s just as hard for me as it is for you. As much as I love bashing in raider heads, I love you and Cooper more and...well, I’m thinking it’d be better for all of us if I stayed home with you guys.”

Grant shot her a questionable look as he tried to comprehend what she was saying, face stuck in disbelief.

“Cait, you love being out on the road, you can’t just leave all of it behind just like that.”

“I don’t love being out on the road.” She insisted, shaking her head. “I love being out on the road with you. Without you, it’s all meaningless.”

“But you-“

“Grant, why the hell are ya fightin’ this so hard? Do ya not want me home or somethin’?”

“Babe.” Grant murmured, taking Cait’s hands into his. “I love you so damn much. There’s nothing more I want than to spend each and every moment of my life with you. But I want you happy more than I want you at home, and I’ve learned my lesson. I never want to force you into doing something you don’t want to again.”

Cait sighed as she mulled on his words, preparing herself to make a kind of emotional confession she seldom made. 

“I’ve spent my whole life fighting. Fightin’ me parents, fightin’ in the Combat Zone...fightin’ meself. I’m tired of it is what I’m sayin’. I love fightin’ by your side and kickin’ the Commonwealth’s arse, but now that we’ve got kids and you’re not fightin’ with me...it’s just not the same. I’m tired of fightin’ alone is all.”

“You’re never fighting alone Cait. Even when you’re out on the road, I’m with you.”

“Maybe...but it’s not the same. I’ve missed a whole damn year of my son’s life, a whole year of bein’ with you and now that we’ve got another kid on the way, I don’t wanna miss any more of it.”

“Well...if you’re serious about this, then there’s nothing I’d like more than to spend all of my days relegating diaper duty to you.”

Cait laughed and threw her arms around his neck, her lips only a few inches from his.

“Yer such an arse, ya know that?”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her lips. “But you love me, don’t you?”

“More than anythin’, ya idiot.” She murmured, meeting him with a soft, curt kiss.

The two turned that solitary kiss into a full minute of passionate love-making, hardly able to contain their passion for each other. A month away from each other had done a number on them, and if Grant didn’t pull away, it was safe to say they’d spend _far_ longer than a single minute in each other’s arms.

“Mmm how I missed those lips of yours. You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I think you and I have a whole lot of kissing to make up. How ‘bout we start now? On the porch, with a couple of Nuka-Colas?”

“Oh now you’re talkin’, love.”

===

“Wait so lemme get this straight, you put a live grenade in his pocket?”

“That’s right.” She smiled proudly, shifting slightly in her place on Grant’s lap. “I usually don’t have the patience for all that tricky shit you like doin’, but those blokes were so damn pathetic, I figured why not?”

“And?”

“Never suspected a goddamn thing. Those two fools were so caught up in their damn conversation that they didn’t even hear me sneakin’ up on them. So I put the frag in their pocket, stepped back and watched the bloody chunks fly.”

“Must of been quite a sight.” He laughed, staring in admiration at his beloved wife. “You must have had a grand ole time then.”

“Oh I had a blast. But being here with you tops seein’ Skinny Malone’s fat body all bloodied up any day.”

“Well that’s just gotta be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Heh, it’s the best yer gonna get outta me.”

Grant pulled the brawler even closer to his body, his grip on her getting considerably tighter. In moments like these, all Cait could do was melt deeper into his touch, relishing the fact that she had someone she could love and trust with her whole heart. Her whole life, she had been holding out for someone like him, a little scrap of humanity she could place her faith in. So many nights spent alone, wanting to die. So many nights with a gun in her mouth, thinking about pulling the trigger. All that misery, all that suffering just seemed so minuscule when she was in his arms. She had fucked up so many damn times along the way, done shit she couldn’t take back, but even so, throughout it all, she had never given up and that... that was the one thing in her life she had done right. She pushed through the bullshit, pushed through the pain, and here she was, rewarded with the unconditional love of the most beautiful man in the world, their baby son fast asleep with another one on the way. As far as she was concerned, life couldn’t get any better. 

“So, if you had to choose...” Grant asked, eyebrow cocked, “boy or girl?”

“Girl.” Cait responded without hesitation. “3 boys in the house? Too much damn testosterone for me.”

“Oh no no no, we absolutely cannot have a girl.” 

“Why not?”

“A girl with your looks and my way of words? We’d be fucking screwed.” 

“Well, if she dates a guy like you, we’d be fine, dontcha worry.”

Grant snorted and rolled his eyes, immediately shooting down that idea.

“Have you seen the men of the Commonwealth? At best, she’d get a Preston, at the worst, she’d get a...Deacon.”

“She’d also have two parents who could blow his head off if need be, so I think we’d be alright.”

He stopped talking for a moment, Cait knowing damn well he was picturing that violent mental image. Hell, she could even tell he could see the bloodied-up skull and bits of brain from here. 

“Well... in that case, I think I’d be okay with a baby girl. Yeah, maybe even more than okay. A little Cait Jr. running around? Adorable.”

“Ugh, the world doesn’t need any more versions of me.” Cait groaned. “One is more than enough.”

“You know what? You’re right babe. This Cait, the one right here, is more than enough for me.”

Cait could feel blood rush to her cheeks at those words, her mind hardly believing how damn romantic her husband was, even after all these years. 

“You’re more than enough for me too, ya know? Cooper, you, the new baby...it’s all I could want in life. I don’t think I could be any happier.”

“I’m glad darling.”

“Me too Grant. Me too.”

The two looked up at each other with bloodshot, tired eyes, beaming with joy as they reflected on this beautiful, fucked up life of theirs. Both had been through the depths of hell, faced demons and heartache that would break any man, but somehow they had emerged alive. Just barely. Alive but battle-scarred. Broken, fucked up people with little patience and little trust. They were too far gone they swore, too hurt to ever trust and fall in love again. Yet somehow, they found what they had thought they lost forever in each other, and through years of fucking each other, fucking _with_ each other and everything in between, their demons had been laid to rest, the fears that had plagued them their whole life defeated, and in each other, they had found a new reason to live. No more chems, no more pent-up anger, no more holding back in the fear of getting hurt again. Just each other, their son, and the beautiful Commonwealth sunrise. 

The way it was always meant to be. 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 304 days, 67 chapters, and a shit ton of "how it was always meant to be", the love story of Grant and Cait has come to an end. Even though I've seen this final chapter approaching for ages now, I still don't know what to say and you'd think as a writer I'd have some nice long speech prepared or something, but here I am. Because even as I type this now, there really are no words for how thankful I am for you all. I started this series as an early quarantine project all the way back in April, and figured that I'd just post for the hell of it and if I was lucky, maybe a couple dozen people would check it out. Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine 4000+ hits, 118 kudos and this much support and positive feedback. You guys have shown me so much love throughout this whole journey, whether that be by commenting, giving me kudos or even just giving it a read. You helped me take this crappy little fanfic into something more and for that, I'm forever indebted to each and every one of you.
> 
> So now that this is over, what's next? Honestly, I'm not sure. On one hand, after writing Fallout related content for almost a year, I'm damn sick of radroaches and Nuka Cola but at the same time, I love Cait and the universe so much that I don't want to ever let it go. So I've been brainstorming, and what I'm thinking right now is another Cait-MSS fanfic, but with a hardcore raider-type instead of a soft goofball like Grant. I don't have any of it written yet, hell, I don't have anything besides a vague outline and some witty dialogue, but right now, it sounds like the perfect remedy to the Cait sized hole in my heart. I can't promise much right now, but I hope to post the first chapter within the next couple months, after a much-needed break. 
> 
> As you can tell, I'm rambling a little, mainly due to the fact that ending this series and saying goodbye is something I've been dreading. But now that I think about it, maybe it's not really a goodbye. Maybe this is just the beginning of something greater, and maybe soon enough I'll get to share another bit of my work with you and you'll get to see what other shenanigans Cait gets herself into. The way it was always meant to be.
> 
> Thank you all so damn much. Until next time my friends.


End file.
